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THE NORWOOD SERIES 


Newly arranged Standard Col- 
lection of History, Biography, 
Heroism, and Adventure 

Fifty favorites in new series New uniform 
cover design Attractive dies Fine cloth 
binding Illustrated Price per volume $i 

This series can truly be said to cover 
the world in its scope, as it chronicles 
heroic and daring exploits in all climes, 
told by an exceptionally strong list of 
authors. In addition we have included 
the full line of George Makepeace 
Towle’s famous “Heroes of History” 
and the ever popular Headley biographies. It is just the library to 
entertain and inform a live boy, and while composed of books that 
arouse eager interest is wholly free from cheap sensationalism. 

1. Andersen, Hans Christian — The Sand Hills of Jutland 

2. Armstrong, F. C. — The Young Middy 

3. Barrows, Rev. William — Twelve Nights in a Hunter’s Camp 

4. Ballantyne, R. M. — The Life Boat 

5. Brehat, Alfred de — The French Robinson Crusoe 

6. Cozzens, Samuel W. — The Young Silver Seekers 

7. Clarke, Mary Cowden— Yarns of an Old Mariner 

8. De Mill, Prof James — Among the Brigands 

9. The Lily and the Cross 

10. The Winged Lion or Stories of Venice 

11. Farrar Capt. Charles A. J. — Down the West Branch or 

Camps and Tramps around Katahdin 

12. Eastward Ho ! or Adventures at Rangeley Lakes 

13. Up the North Branch A Summer’s Outing 

14. Wild Woods Life or A Trip to Parmachenee 

15. Frost, John, LL.D. — Wild Scenes of a Hunter’s Life 

16. Hall, Capt. Charles W. — Twice Taken A Tale of Louis- 

burg 

17. Harley, Dr. — The Young Crusoe or Adventures of a Ship- 

wrecked Boy 

18. Headley, P. C. — Facing the Enemy The Life of Gen. 

Wm. Tecumseh Sherman 



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22. Old Stars The Life of Gen. Ormsby M. Mitchell 

23. The Miner Boy and His Monitor The Career of John 

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24. Kingston, W. H. K. — Anthony Waymouth 

25. Ernest Bracebridge or School Boy Days 

26. The Adventures of Dick Onslow among the Redskins 

27. The Cruise of the Frolic 

28. Lee, Mrs. R. — The African Crusoes 

29. The Australian Wanderers 

30. McCabe, James D., Jr. — Planting the Wilderness 

31. Macy, William H. — The Whales We Caught and How We 

Did It 

32. Morecamp, Arthur — Live Boys or Charlie and Nasho in 

Texas 

33. Live Boys in the Black Hills or the Young Texas Gold 

Hunters 

34. Pearson, Dr. C. H. — The Cabin on the Prairie 

35. The Young Pioneers of the Northwest 

36. Rowcroft, Charles — The Australian Crusoes 

37. St. John, Percy B. — The Arctic Crusoe Adventures on the 

Sea of Ice 

38. Towle, George Makepeace — Drake the Sea King of Devon 

39. Magellan or The First Voyage around the World 

40. Marco Polo His Travels and Adventures 

41. Pizzaro His Adventures and Conquests 

42. Raleigh His Voyages and Adventures 

43. Vasco da Gama His Voyages and Adventures 

44. The Heroes and Martyrs of Invention 

45. Verne, Jules — A Winter in the Ice 

46. Around the World in Eighty Days 

47. The Wreck of the Chancellor 

48. Wraxhall, Sir Lascelles — Golden Hair A Tale of the Pil- 

grim Fathers 

49. The Prairie Crusoe or Adventures in the Far West 

50. Willis the Pilot A Sequel to the Swiss Family Robinson 


LEE and SHEPARD Publishers Boston 



















Lost in Venice. — Page 1»2. 




The Young Dodge Club. 


THE WINGED LION 

\ 

OR, 

STORIES OF VENICE. 


BY 


PROF. JAMES DE MILLE, 

H 


AUTHOR OF 44 THE B. O. W. C.,” 44 THE BOYS OF GRANT) PRE SCHOOL,” 
44 LOST IN THE FOG,” 44 FIRE IN THE WOODS,” 44 PICKED 
UP ADRIFT,” 44 THE TREASURE OF THE SEAS,” 

“AMONG THE BRIGANDS,” ETC. 


3 


D 

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) > 

) ■> ) 
3 


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ILL US Tit A TEL, 



BOSTON 

LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 



lUSP&RV ■>* 3f»w«RFSS 

fVfO 0OVM$ 3*viv**i 

OCT 29 1904 

)o*jyrf$rht erm-v 

53 (X X*°- 

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Copyright, 1876, by Lee and Shepard. 
Copyright, 1904, by A. B. de Mille. 

The Winged Lion. 



“NTartMToatf $«B«: 

Berwick & Smith Co., Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 




V 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

A Rash Plan. — A Mournful Separation. — Truant Boys. 

— Breaking Faith. — A Surprise. — The Beautiful 

Stranger. — Clive and David find Themselves the 
chosen Protectors of Beauty in Distress. . . 1 1 

CHAPTER II. 

A New Friend. — The Young Artist. — A Strange Rail- 
way Station. — A Wonderful City. — The Grand Canal. 

— The Winged Lion. — A Story of St. Mark the 

Evangelist. — Pleasant Lodgings 24 

CHAPTER III. 

St. Mark’s and its Wonders. — The Story of the Demon 
Ship. — The Great Barbarossa. — The Artist’s Home. 

— The Two Mysterious Pictures 39 

CHAPTER IV. 

Vernon reads to his Guests the Story of Antenore and 
Galbajo S3 


3 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER V. 

The Second Story. — The Wonderful Adventures of 
Soranzo 66 

CHAPTER VI. 

Poor Old Uncle Moses. — Deep Anxiety. — Pursuit of 
the Fugitives. — Bologna. — Ferrara. — Padua. — The 
Track lost. — Heroic Resolve of Uncle Moses. — On 
to Venice 87 


CHAPTER VII. 

The Pleasant Party in Venice. — How to find a Missing 
Relative. — The Story of the Beheaded Doge. . . 99 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Dungeons of the Inquisition. — The Bridge of Sighs. 

— The Story of a Life-long Vengeance. . . . 109 

CHAPTER IX. 

A Race Three Hundred Feet up into the Air. — The 
Story of the Origin of Venice. — The Story of the 
Jealous Artist .118 

CHAPTER X. 

Another Call on the Police, with the Result thereof. — 

The Story of the Ambitious Money-Lender, and his 


Malignant Plot .134 

CHAPTER XI. 

The Story of Fatima 15 1 


CONTENTS. 


5 


CHAPTER XII. 

Uncle Moses still on the Search. — On to Venice. — The 
Hotel Zeno. — Distressing Disappointment. — A Visit 
to the Venetian Police. — Frank and Bob go the 
Rounds. — A Wonderful City. — Lost. . . .172 

CHAPTER XIII. 

1 

The Early Bird catches the Worm. — Bob’s Early Rising, 
and what came of it. — A Bath in the Grand Canal. — 

The Approach of the Enemy. — Flight and Pursuit. — 

The Dungeons of Venice 184 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Another Lost Boy. — T error and Despair of U ncle Moses. 

— A Wild Search. — Another Visit to the Police. — 

New Disappointment. — The End of it all. . . 191 

CHAPTER XV. 

New Wanderings and more Stories. — The Espousals of 
the Adriatic. — The Capture of Constantinople. . . 202 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Up the Grand Canal. — The Rialto. — The old Original 
Ballad of Shylock. — The Conspiracy of Thiepolo. . 220 

CHAPTER XVII. 

The Outer Sea. — A Distant View of Venice. — The 
Brides of Venice — The Story of the War of Chiozza. 234 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Afloat. — In a Gondola. — Romantic Situation. — The 
Story of the Three Artists. . 


. 251 


6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Vernon Visits the Police. — Strange Tidings. — Off to the 
Hotel Zeno. — Disappointment. — Clive and David find 
out the Error of their Ways 261 

CHAPTER XX. 

The End of Happiness. — The Cheerful Vernon. — Gra- 
de's Resolution. — A Lost Day. — Verona. — Inquiries. 

— The Right Track. — The Amphitheatre at Sunset. 

— An Interesting Conversation. .... 272 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The Mournful Uncle Moses. — Marius among the Ruins 


of Carthage. — Uncle Moses startled. — A New Ac- 
quaintance 283 

CHAPTER XXII. 


Wonderful Change in Uncle Moses. — The New Friend. 

— New Resolves. — Application to the Police. . . 294 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Clive and David. — Unwelcome Visitors. ■ — Arrested. — 
Hauled to Prison. — The Dungeons of Venice. — De- 
spair of the Captives 301 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

The Police once more. — An Affecting Meeting. — Grand 
Reunion at the Hotel Zeno. — Uncle Moses causes a 
Great Surprise .312 


THE YOUNG DODGE CLUB. 


Ill- 


THE WINGED LION; 

OR, 

STORIES OF VENICE. 


CHAPTER I. 


A rash Plan. — A mournful Separation. — Truant Boys. 
— Breaking Faith . — A Surprise. — The beautiful Stran- 
ger. — Clive and David find themselves the chosen Pro- 
tectors of Beauty in Distress. 



spending a few weeks in Florence, 
Uncle Moses and his young friends began 
to discuss the important question of their 
next movements ; and here a difficulty arose which 
led to many odd adventures. As for Uncle Moses, 
that worthy man would gladly have left Italy alto- 
gether, and gone on as fast as possible to his desti- 
nation ; but the very hint of such a thing roused 
so great a storm of opposition and reproach that 
he did not press it further. Leave Italy, indeed ! 
That was not to be thought of. They h|id many 
places still to visit, and many adventures still to 
encounter. Bologna, Ferrara, Padua, Milan, Turin, 

11 


12 


THE WINGED LION. 


Genoa, — all these cities lay before them; and great- 
er than all, one which drew them onward with a 
stronger fascination. For of all the cities of the 
old world none had ever seemed so attractive 
and so wonderful as Venice. Its unique situation; 
its romantic history; its splendid monuments; its 
canals, gondolas, towers, and palaces ; its dark 
secrets; its alluring mystery, — all served to throw 
a spell over their minds. 

There was but one opinion, therefore, among the 
boys as to Venice; but their views were widely 
different as to the time of starting. Frank and 
Bob preferred waiting in Florence for another 
week, and then going straight to Venice without 
stopping at the intervening cities; Clive and 
David, on the other hand, much as they loved 
Florence, were anxious to visit Bologna, Ferrara, 
and Padua. Prolonged argument only made each 
side more eager in the assertion of its own prefer- 
ences. The question was argued long and hotly, 
and only ended in each side maintaining its own 
view, and blaming the other for obstinacy. 

David and Clive talked the matter over, and at 
length came to an important decision. This was, 
to go on ahead, leaving the others behind. They 
could then visit the intervening cities, and after- 
wards they could all join one another at Padua or 
Venice* But to this plan it was first necessary to 
obtain Uncle Moses 7 consent. 

No sooner was it mentioned than Uncle Moses 


A MOURNFUL SEPARATION. 


13 


burst forth with exclamations of amazement and 
horror. “ To separate ! ” he cried. “ Never ! ” 
He declared that it would be ruin to all of them, 
and that his anxiety would be the death of hijn. 
Clive and David were prepared for this refusal; 
so they waited patiently till the first storm had 
passed, and then returned to the charge. They 
teased and coaxed, and tried to show their timid 
relative that his fears were groundless. Frank 
and Bob thought it a good idea, and magnani- 
mously joined the others in their efforts to per- 
suade. Before this combined attack Uncle Moses 
grew more yielding, and at length, in a moment of 
weakness, was rash enough to give something like 
an assent. 

But in assenting to their proposal he made some 
stipulations. One was, that they should not go 
farther than Bologna. Another was, that they 
should all join one another in two or three days. 
These terms were agreed to, and Clive and David 
in great glee began to prepare for their departure. 

But in the mind of Uncle Moses there was some- 
thing very different from glee. No sooner had his 
reluctant assent been wrung from him than heavy 
clouds of anxiety began to roll over that good 
man’s gentle heart. He repented greatly, and 
tried to dissuade them. He told them that they 
were too young, and that they could not be 
trusted alone on such a journey. To this Clive 
and David replied with a laugh, and informed 


u 


THE WINGED LION. 


Uncle Moses that he was the only one of the party 
who was in any danger when alone. 

And so there was, on the side of Uncle Moses, 
a very mournful parting. 

“ You’ll be sure and take care of yourselves, dear 
boys,” he wailed forth, as he bade them good by at 
the station. 

“ 0, yes,” was the cheery reply ; “ and mind, 
Uncle Moses, don’t you go and get into trouble.” 

These were their last words : the train rolled 
off, and Uncle Moses went back to his lodgings 
with his heart full of sadness, and his mind full of 
dismal forebodings. 

The two boys felt full of delight at thus start- 
ing off alone. Their minds were full of a glorious 
sense of freedom ; and the only check upon their 
joy was the thought that this freedom was to be 
of such short duration. Still they determined to 
make the most of it while it lasted ; and with this 
laudable design they began, even in the railway 
carriage, to give vent to their exuberant spirits, 
to the slight surprise of other passengers. They 
sang songs ; they screamed ; they made gestures ; 
they told stories ; they quoted poetry ; and every 
minute made some plan which, on the following 
minute, was superseded by another new one. In 
this frame of mind they reached Bologna. 

On stepping forth from the cars they found, to 
their disappointment, that the weather had changed. 
The brilliant sunshine and deep blue skies of Flor- 


VISIT TO BOLOGNA. 


15 


ence were no longer to be seen. Instead of tin's, 
they saw overhead nothing but dull, leaden-colored 
clouds, while a thick drizzle filled the air. As 
they went to the hotel, they saw that Bologna was 
a gloomy city, with dull- gray houses and narrow 
streets, and with nothing whatever to alleviate 
this depressing exterior. However, they strug- 
gled against their feelings of despondency, and 
after dinner they went out to see the town. 

Two or three hours 7 walk in a drizzling rain, 
and visits to dreary churches, did not reconcile 
them to Bologna. On their return to the hotel, 
they both came to the opinion that Bologna might 
be a very good place for sausages, but that it was 
a very mean place for tourists. The prospect of 
waiting here for three long days was most miser- 
able ; so miserable, indeed, that they thought of 
going back to Florence. 

It was David who first proposed another plan. 
That plan was to go on to Ferrara. 

11 It’s a magnificent city , 77 said David ; u full of 
palaces and historical associations. There Tasso 
lived, and Ariosto. Let 7 s go there . 77 

11 But we promised Uncle Moses to wait at Bo- 
logna , 77 objected Clive. 

“ Certainly , 77 said David. “ We’ll come back 
here again, and meet them. But just now, in- 
stead of staying in this gloomy hole, it will be a 
great deal better to spend the time in some decent 
place . 77 


16 


THE WINGED LION. 


“ That’s a fact,” said Clive. “ It’ll be all the 
same, of course, to Uncle Moses.” 

“ Of course,” said David ; “ he merely wants to 
meet us here.’’ 

So they agreed upon this, and the next morning 
went on to Ferrara full of high hopes. 

On reaching Ferrara they found themselves in 
a dreary city, with wide grass-grown streets, on 
which but few people were visible. There was a 
depressing dullness about the place, against which 
it was impossible to struggle. Added to this was 
the hateful drizzle which had followed them as 
if on purpose to disappoint and humiliate them. 
They tried to keep up their spirits, but in vain. 
They visited the churches, they looked with lack- 
lustre eyes at the cell of Tasso, and strolled lan- 
guidly through the Museum. After this they went 
to the railway station, as though the most attrac- 
tive place in Ferrara was the way that led out of it. 
Here they studied the time-tables, and neither said 
a word. 

“ At two o’clock,” said David, suddenly, “ the 
train goes through for Padua.” 

“ Well,” said Clive. 

u I wonder why we mayn’t go to Padua,” said 
David, innocently. “ We can stay the night, and 
come back to Bologna to-morrow, and meet Uncle 
Moses.” 

u Will Uncle Moses leave Florence to-morrow ? ” 

u No, not till the day after. We were to have 
three days, and he would leave on the fourth.” 


ARRIVAL IN PADUA. 


17 


u Well/’ said Clive, “ we may as well be in Padua 
as in Ferrara.” 

“ A great deal better,” said David. “ For my 
part, 1 can’t stand this place any longer. It’s 
worse than Bologna.” 

“ Ten times worse,” said Clive. 

The boys now went back to the hotel, got their 
little valise, which contained all their luggage, and 
then, returning to the station, waited for the train. 
It came in due time, and so they soon found them- 
selves in Padua. But although they had hoped for 
some better fortune in this city, they were doomed 
to disappointment. The drizzling rain still con- 
tinued, and they had grown so weary of churches 
and museums that they did not care to visit any 
more. They strolled through the streets till they 
were tired, and finally took refuge in the magnifi- 
cent Cafe Pedrocchi, where they ordered a sumptu- 
ous dinner, and whiled away the time till dark. 

Over this repast they began to grow refreshed, 
and amused themselves with discussing the situ- 
ation. 

“ And so,” said David, “ we have to go back to- 
morrow. Well, all that I can say is, we’ve had a 
mean sort of excursion.” 

11 It’ll never do to own up to Frank and Bob,” 
said Clive. “ We must hold our tongues.” 

u I dare say they’ve had no end of fun,” said 
David, gloomily. “ Florence is such a perfect 
paradise. What fools we were ! ” 

2 


18 


THE WINGED LION. 


There was a silence for a time, in which each 
one meditated over his late folly. 

“ I say, Dave,” said Clive, at length. 

“ What?” 

a Suppose we go on to Venice.” 

u What ! ” cried David, in amazement. 

“ The fact is,” said Clive, “ I’ve been thinking 
about it all day.” 

“ Well, for that matter,” said David, “ so have I.” 

“ You see,” said Clive, “ Bologna is such a hor- 
rible place that I never want to see it again.” 

“ No more do I.” 

“ I’d rather wait here than go back. But since 
we are here, why, we might as well go on at once 
to Venice.” 

11 But wliat’ll Uncle Moses do ? ” 

“ 0, we can write him.” 

“ Where ? At Bologna ? ” 

“ No ; Florence. He won’t leave till the day 
after to-morrow. We can write to-night. He’ll 
get our letter to-morrow. We’ll tell him all about 
it, and where we are going.” 

“ Capital ! ” cried David. “ I thought of Venice, 
too ; but somehow it didn’t seem fair to Uncle 
Moses. Of course his anxiety is only 1* s timidity. 
We can go round the world safe enough. If we 
write him, it will be all that is wanted. He may 
just as well meet us at Venice as at Bologna.” 

“ Of course,” said Clive ; “ and then, you know, 
neither Frank nor Bob wants to go bothering about 


LETTER TO UNCLE MOSES. 


19 


these stupid towns. They’ll be glad to have it all 
settled in this way. And Uncle Moses’ll be just 
as glad as the others, for he thinks every town that 
he misses so much gain for himself. We’re almost 
as near at Venice as at Bologna; and we’ll save 
them from a fit of the blues.” 

That night the boys concocted a letter. Clive 
wrote it. The letter was not very long. It gave 
a brief account of their proceedings, and of their 
intention to go to Venice. They mentioned a 
hotel, the name of which they learned from their 
landlord ; and in this way they arranged every- 
thing for Uncle Moses, so that he could find them 
without any difficulty. They knew that they were 
violating the strict letter of their promise to Uncle 
Moses, but they thought that they were keeping it 
in a general way, and that it would be all right so 
long as they had arranged to meet at the specified 
time. After all, Venice would be a better place 
for their reunion than Bologna. 

That night they mailed the letter, and the next 
day they were rolling away in the train for Venice, 
which was only forty miles away. 

On entering the train they found themselves in 
a compartment with two others — a gentleman and 
a lad}^. The lady was very young and exceedingly 
pretty, with a very sweet face and a profusion of 
blonde hair. She looked rather sad, and both the 
boys felt themselves drawn towards the beautiful 
stranger with feelings of deep sympathy. She did 


20 


THE WINGED LION. 


not look like an Italian, but rather like an English 
lady ; or still more, like an American. What made 
them take a deeper interest in her was the fact 
that she looked at them very earnestly, and seemed 
as though she would like to speak to them. 

The other passenger was a young man with a 
fine frank face, dark hair rather long, and dark 
eyes, which rested occasionally on the boys with 
a glance of kindly sympathy, mingled with mirth- 
fulness. The lady and the gentleman were evi- 
dently not acquainted, for they were seated at a 
distance from one another, and on opposite sides 
of the compartment. David and Clive took the 
middle seats, sitting opposite to each other, and 
Clive was thus brought within sight of the lady. 

This lady looked at him very often, and very 
fixedly, occasionally stealing a glance at David. 
Clive admired her face very much. She was evi- 
dently very young, for her face was girlish, and 
she had a timid way about her which made him 
wonder. 

At last the lady leaned forward and spoke to 
him. 

“Do you know anything about Venice?” she 
asked, in a sweet, low voice. 

“ 0, well, not very much,” said Clive, wishing to 
be of assistance to her, and not caring to confess 
his ignorance. From the tone of her voice Clive 
knew at once that she was an American lady, and 
so his interest in her grew stronger than ever. 


THE BEAUTIFUL STRANGER. 


21 


“ If there is anything that I can do,” he added, “ I 
shall be very happy indeed.” 

“ You are from America ?” said the lady. 

“ Yes,” said Clive, “ from Boston.” 

“ 0, I am so glad ! ” said she. “ I’ve been so 
awfully frightened ! and I am yet. I was going to 
Venice with my aunt. We left Milan early this 
morning. She got out at Verona for something, 
and told me not to leave the train till she should 
come back. I waited — when suddenly the train 
left. My poor aunt did not come. She must have 
been left behind. At first I thought of getting out 
at the next station, and going back ; but, then, I 
don’t know Italian, and I thought that dear auntie 
would come after me. I was dreadfully terrified 
and confused, and so I’ve been coming on, with a 
vague idea of waiting for her at Venice. It seems 
to me that it will be the wiser course.” 

“ 0, yes,” said Clive, who was fuller of sympathy 
than ever, “ I should think that it was your best 
plan.” 

“We know of a very nice hotel at Venice,” 
chimed in David. “We are going there to wait 
for our friends, who are coming to join us to- 
morrow.” 

“ And you can stay at the same place,” said 
Clive, “ and wait for your aunt.” 

“ It’s the Hotel Zeno,” said David. “ It’s a very 
comfortable hotel. Our landlord at Padua recom- 
mended it highly.” 


22 


THE WINGED LION. 


“ 0, thank you very much/’ said the lady : “ HI 
go with you. I’m very glad that I’ve met with 
you. You remind me of my two dear little broth- 
ers at home. I’m not a bit troubled about myself, 
but I’m so dreadfully worried about poor dear 
auntie ; for, you know, she doesn’t know anything 
about travelling, and I’m afraid she'll go out of 
her senses when she finds herself left behind, and 
separated from me.” 

“ 0, well,” said Clive, “ I’ll tell you what we’ll 
do ; we’ll send back telegrams immediately.” 

The mention of telegrams seemed to give great 
relief to the little lady. She thanked them, and 
told them that they had taken a great load off her 
mind. And now they all chatted together like 
children. For the young lady was herself but just 
out of girlhood, and had all the simplicity and inno- 
cence of that sweet season. Clive and David were 
charmed beyond all expression by her lovely face 
and her winning ways. They grew rapidly inti- 
mate, as boys and girls generally do, and Clive and 
David told all about themselves, and their new 
friend told all about herself. 

Her name was Gracie Lee. She insisted that 
they should call her by her Christian name. 

“ If you were grown-up young men,” said she, 
11 1 should not have dared to speak to you ; but 
you are boys, and you are so like my little broth- 
ers that when you came in I could have cried for 
joy. And I’m not so very much older than you, 


THE STRANGER^ PROTECTORS. 


23 


either ; so I’ll pretend that you are my brothers, 
Fred and Harry, only I’ll call you by your own 
names.” 

All this was delightful to such romantic boys as 
Clive and David. Here was an adventure far dif- 
ferent from their old ones ; this lovely little stran- 
ger, who looked out at them so sweetly with her 
blue eyes, and dimpled cheeks, and golden hair. 
They were all young and fresh, and unspoiled by 
the world ; and being thrown upon one another in 
this way, it made them feel like old friends. Gracie 
felt all her anxiety removed ; and Clive and David 
had a fine sense of responsibility, for Gracie had 
thrown herself upon their protection, and looked to 
them to find her lost relative. This, of course, they 
both felt sure of doing. 


24 


THE WINGED LION. 


CHAPTER II. 

A new Friend. — The young Artist. — A strange Railway 
Station. — A wonderful City. — The Grand Canal. — 
The Winged Lion. — A Story of St. Mark the Evangelist. 
— Pleasant Lodgings. 

t HE young man who was sitting opposite to 
David had heard every word of the conver- 
sation, and had at times stolen glances at 
the sweet face of Gracie Lee, without venturing, 
however, to intrude himself upon her. At length, 
as David’s eyes wandered about, he caught sight 
of the stranger, who was looking at him with a 
careless smile. 

“ You have never been in Venice before — have 
you ? ” said the stranger. 

“ No,” said David, who could not help taking a 
liking to the young man, both on account of his 
face and the tone of his voice. 

“ It’s rather an awkward place to land in,” said 
the other. 11 I’m an old inhabitant, and if there’s 
anything I can do, why, I can only say I shall be 
very glad to do it.” 

“ Why, you must be an American,” said David, 
in surprise, as his ear detected the beloved intona- 
tions and accent of his native land. 


THE YOUNG ARTIST. 


25 


“ 0, yes,” said the young man, with a laugh, “ I 
was born under the shadow of the State House, and 
was raised in the Boston Latin School. I’m an 
artist — living here with my mother. I’ve been 
living in Venice two or three years — studying 
Titian, you know.” 

“ How splendid ! ” said David, to whom an artist 
studying Titian seemed almost like an angelic 
being. 

Gracie stole a shy look at the stranger, and then 
whispered to Clive, — 

“ How funny ! He’s from Boston, too ! ” 

“My name,” said the stranger, “is Vernon — 
Paul Vernon. I know yours already, you know, 
as you’ve been mentioning it ; and if you’re going 
to stay at Venice for any length of time, why, per- 
haps you would like to see the city. I’ll give you 
my address, and show you the sights.” 

David was delighted at this. What guide could 
be equal to an artist — and an American ? He 
thanked Vernon very emphatically. Vernon went 
on talking in a very pleasant way about Venice, 
and David liked him better and better every mo- 
ment. So David and Vernon talked, while Gracie 
and Clive carried on another conversation by them- 
selves ; yet both heard every word that Vernon 
said. 

At length they reached Venice. Vernon in- 
formed David that he would get a boat, and that he 
would go with them as far as the Hotel Zeno. This 


26 


THE WINGED LION. 


was not altogether intelligible to David, who 
thought rather of taking a cab: but soon his mean- 
ing was apparent. For on emerging from the sta- 
tion, the party found themselves not on a street, 
but a canal ; while before them there was a large 
number of gondolas, with that peculiar shape which 
had become familiar to their eyes from pictures. 
Some of these were of large size, and had the word 
Omnibus painted on the outside. All the rest were 
painted black, and had a little cabin at the stern, 
with a canopy over it formed of black cloth. One 
of these Vernon had engaged. 

“I hope you will pardon me, Miss Lee,” said 
Vernon, approaching Gracie with a pleasant smile, 
u if I do not stand upon ceremony. But in the cars 
I couldn’t help hearing what you said ; and as I 
know all about this country, it occurred to me that 
I could be of service to you towards finding your 
aunt. I know the chief of police here, and 1 can 
get them to send off messengers to Verona — that 
is, if your aunt does not turn up. Meanwhile I 
can make myself useful by showing you where the 
hotel is. My mother is living here, and I think she 
knows some of your people in Boston, and I’m sure 
you would like to see her. You know Venice is 
like a ship at sea, and we Americans who live here 
always feel our hearts grow warm towards any of 
our fellow- country men. ” 

It was quite evident that Vernon’s last words 
were true as far as regarded one at least of the 


A WONDERFUL CITY. 


27 


people of his native land ; for his heart did certainly 
feel an unusual warmth as he spoke to his fair 
young fellow- citizen. As for Gracie, she seemed 
much pleased. 

“ 0, thank you,” said she ; “ that will be very 
nice indeed, if you really could manage to send 
some one.” 

u 0, 111 manage it,” said Vernon, eagerly; “ for 
that matter, I’ll go myself. So you need not give 
yourself any further anxiety. Think of Italy as 
though it were Massachusetts. Travelling here is 
just as safe, and easy, and simple, as there. Your 
aunt will be well cared for wherever she is, and I 
hope that you will find yourself well cared for, too.” 

Gracie felt very grateful, and could not help 
thinking that it was very fortunate for her to have 
found some one who was so well able to hunt up 
her lost aunt. Vernon’s manner, too, was so cor- 
dial, so devoted, and withal so respectful, that her 
natural timidity was quickly dispelled, and she 
found herself talking with this new acquaintance 
with the utmost ease and confidence. 

Soon they were all in the boat, and moving along 
through this wonderful city. The first thing that 
they noticed was the marvellous stillness around 
them. In other cities there are always the noise of 
wagons passing over stone pavements, the cries 
of people, and the confused murmur formed out of 
all the aggregated sounds of a busy multitude. 
But here there was nothing of the kind. All was 


28 


THE WINGED LION. 


still. The streets were streets of water. Water 
was the pavement. Over this glided all the people 
in boats, noiselessly. Foot-passengers, carriages, 
wagons, carts, horses, all the varied modes of trans- 
portation common to other cities, were here reduced 
to one uniform fashion — the fashion of rowing in 
boats. The gondoliers stood and propelled the 
boats by pushing with their oars. The streets were 
real streets, after all ; tor on each side rose lofty 
houses, whose windows looked out upon these 
streets, as in other cities. Their doors opened out 
on the street also; but here, if one wished to leave 
his house, he had to step from the front door into 
a gondola. 

In this w T ay they passed along. Other boats 
were going in the same direction. All was silent, 
and the silence was never broken by any sound, 
except at times, when, on turning a corner, the gon- 
dolier would utter a peculiar cry, to give notice to 
any boat that might be coming from an opposite 
direction. 

“ I say, Dave,” said Clive, 11 this sort of thing is 
a little ahead of Bologna, and Ferrara, and Padua.” 

“ I bet it is,” said David, who enjoyed the situa- 
tion as much as Clive. 

At length the gondola shot out from a narrow 
canal into one which was four times as broad as 
any which they had thus far seen. The view here 
was magnificent. On either side rose stately man- 
sions, whose marble fronts were displayed with 


THE GRAND CANAL. 


29 


lavish adornments, and in richly decorated styles 
of architecture. Boats passed up and down, enli- 
vening the scene. In the distance, above the tall- 
est houses, rose a lofty tower. 

“ I know this place,” said Clive. “ It must be 
the Grand Canal.” 

“ Yes,” said Vernon, 11 you are right. There's 
nothing like this in any other city.” 

At length the boat stopped before a mansion, 
whose marble front, adorned with splendid decora- 
tions, rose for many stories above them. Marble 
steps afforded an entrance from the gondola, through 
a lordly portico, into the mansion. 

“ Is this the Hotel Zeno ? ” asked Clive. 

“ ( Yes,” said Vernon. “ It was once the Zeno 
Palace ; but most of the Venetian palaces are now 
hotels and boarding-houses ; and the name of the 
greatest of all the Venetian heroes is now fallen to 
this. But such is life. 

‘ Imperial Caesar, dead and turned to clay, 

May stop a hole to keep the wind away.’ 

And so most people now only think of Carlo Zeno 
in connection with this hotel.” 

They now entered, and all were shown to very 
handsome apartments. Vernon went away, prom- 
ising to see them again before long. 

He kept his promise. Before an hour had passed 
he was back again. This time he brought with 
him an elderly lady, whom he introduced as his 


30 


THE WINGED LION. 


mother. She had a soft, low voice, and a sweet 
and gracious face, which at once gained their 
hearts. Gracie especially felt the quiet charm of 
this dear old lady, and before long they were wan- 
dering in thought far away, and Mrs. Vernon was 
telling Gracie of her past life in Boston, and ask- 
ing after Boston news. Vernon talked with the 
boys, but kept his ears and eyes open, and noticed 
everything that Gracie said or did. 

And now a new arrangement was made. Mrs. 
Vernon insisted that Gracie should go home with 
her, and stay with her until her aunt should come 
to Venice. A young girl like Gracie, she said, 
should not be left alone without friends in a great 
hotel. Her persuasions were not without effect. 
Gracie herself felt a little timid at the idea of being 
all alone, with no friends except Clive and David, 
and Mrs. Vernon seemed to her like a mother. 
And so, with many apologies and excuses, she at 
last accepted the kind invitation. Meanwhile Ver- 
non had been giving the same invitation to the 
boys. At first they declined with many thanks ; 
but Vernon was so urgent that at last they ac- 
cepted it, and at length the whole party retired 
from the Hotel Zeno. 

And now, once more in a boat, they passed down 
the Grand Canal, which presented a more striking 
appearance as they went on. At length the canal 
broadened into a wide expanse of water ; and close 
by, on their left, they saw a landing-place, which 


THE EMBLEM OP VENICE. 


31 


seemed to lead to a great square. Here very many 
gondolas were drawn up, and just beyond, two 
lofty pillars arose ; one of which was surmounted 
by a statue of a man, and the other by a statue 
representing a Winged Lion. Beyond this they 
saw that same lofty tower which had met their 
gaze far up the Grand Canal, and in the distance 
a row of magnificent edifices. Bordering on the 
canal, a little farther on, there Avas a stately palace, 
and behind this, fronting on the inner square, was 
a cathedral with many domes. 

“ This,” said Yernon, “ is the Piazza of St. Mark; 
and just here, near the pillars, is the Piazzetta, or 
little square. That is the Ducal Palace ; that church 
with the domes is the Cathedral of St. Mark, and 
the tower belongs to it, although it stands apart 
from it, as is often the case in Italy.” 

“ What is that Winged Lion ? ” asked Clive. 

“That,” said Yernon, “is the Lion of St. Mark. 
It is the symbol of Yenice — like the British Lion, 
the symbol of British power — or like the Ameri- 
can Eagle, our own majestic fowl. The Winged 
Lion was once a powerful beast, and was respected 
all over the Mediterranean, when the British Lion 
was but a small animal, and long before the Ameri- 
can Eagle was hatched.” 

“ I’m afraid,” said Gracie, shyly, “ that you are 
just a little bit flippant. It seems like irreverence 
to call these glorious symbols fowls and beasts.” 

“ Then I’ll never call them so again as long as I 


32 


THE WINGED LION. 


live,” said Vernon, with an absurd air of contrition, 
which made them all laugh ; “ and Fm sure I didn’t 
mean any harm.” 

“ But what is the meaning of a Winged Lion ? ” 
asked Gracie. “ No lion has wings.” 

“ That’s the very question,” said Vernon, “ that 
an Austrian ambassador once asked of a Venetian. 
Now, you know the Austrian symbol is a double- 
headed eagle ; and do you know what the Venetian 
replied ? ” 

“ No,” said Gracie; “Fm sorry to say I’m awfully 
ignorant. My education has been frightfully neg- 
lected.” 

“Well,” said Vernon, “the Austrian asked the 
Venetian in what part of the world winged lions 
are found; and the Venetian replied, in the same 
country where they have double-headed eagles.” 

“ Well done for the Venetian,” said Clive. 

“ 0, it wasn’t a very clever thing to say,” said 
Vernon. “ I only tell the story because it’s one of 
the regular things that one has to say to every new 
visitor.” 

“ But why did they take a Winged Lion for their 
symbol in the first place ? ” asked Gracie. 

“Ah, well,” said Vernon. “ 1 Thereby hangs a 
tale.’ ” 

“ 0, tell it, tell it by all means,” said Gracie. 
“ I’m awfully fond of stories.” 

Vernon laughed in his usual pleasant fashion, 
and began : — 


vernon’s explanation. 


33 


“ Well, you know, in the first place, the lion be- 
longs to St. Mark. It has been taken for his sym- 
bol ever since the time of the apostles. The reason 
of this is, that the vision of Ezekiel, where he sees 
the cherubim, you know, describes them as having 
four faces, or, as some say, four distinct forms ; 
that is, a man, a lion, an ox, and an eagle. Now, 
these have always been taken by the church to 
represent the four evangelists — the man repre* 
senting St. Matthew ; the lion, St. Mark ; the ox, 
St. Luke ; and the eagle, St. John.” 

“ 0, I’m very glad to know all that,” said Gracie. 
“ I’m sure I never heard it before. And that is 
why St. Mark has the lion. Well, as an American, 
I feel inclined to take St. John as the patron saint 
of our country, for his emblem is the eagle. But 
how did St. Mark’s lion happen to have wings ? ” 

“ Well, that arose,” said Vernon, u from the vis- 
ion of the prophet Daniel. In his vision he sees 
four living things — the same as Ezekiel — a man, 
a lion with eagle’s wings, an ox, and an eagle. 
These also were taken to represent the evangel- 
ists ; and so, you see, the Lion of St. Mark gained a 
pair of wings, which wings you may see on that 
statue.” 

“ How did Venice happen to choose St. Mark for 
its patron saint?” asked Gracie. “Why not St. 
Peter ? or St. Paul ? or St. Bartholomew ? For my 
part, I’ve always had a weakness for St. Bartholo- 
mew. It’s such a nice name, you know.” 

3 


34 


THE WINGED LION. 


Vernon laughed again. “ Bartholomew ! ” said he. 
“ Why Bartholomew more than Nathaniel ? The 
names belonged to the same man. Bartholomew 
means the son of Tolmmus, or Tholemew, and that 
party was Nathaniel’s father.” 

“ Well/’ said Gracie, u I think it’s a shame. I’ve 
been going to Sunday school all m} r life, and no- 
body ever told me all that. But how do you hap- 
pen to know so much about church history ? Why, 
you ought to write one for the use of Sunday 
schools. But never mind. Go on and tell how the 
Venetians happened to choose St. Mark.” 

“ St. Mark, you know,” began Vernon, u accord- 
ing to legend, which is very likely to be true, died 
at Alexandria, and was buried there. His tomb 
was much revered by the Christians, who believed 
that miracles were wrought there. After the Mo- 
hammedans captured the place, the Christians still 
kept up their reverence, and at length the Moham- 
medans also caught the superstition, and used to 
bring their sick friends there to be healed. At 
last, one of the Mohammedan rulers, who did not 
believe in St. Mark, being in want of marble for a 
new palace, determined to destroy his church, and 
appropriate the stones for his own purposes. The 
priests were in a great way. They were afraid 
that the remains of the apostle would be dese- 
crated, and the lower orders generally were equal- 
ly afraid of losing the relics which wrought such 
miracles. So the governor promised to transfer 
the remains to some other place. 


ST. MARK. 


35 


u At that very time there happened to be a num- 
ber of Venetian ships in port, and the captain of 
one of them, hearing of what was going on, deter- 
mined to try to secure the sacred relics of the apos- 
tle for his own city. So he had an interview with 
the priests w r ho had charge of the tomb ; pointed 
out the dangers that would always threaten the 
grave of a Christian saifft among a Mohammedan 
population ; and how desirable it would be to have 
the body transferred to a safer place : a large bribe 
was added to the arguments, and all together were 
so persuasive that the priests consented. 

u The work, however, was not easy. The wor- 
shippers were numerous, and might detect the act. 
At length they made an opening in the lower part 
of the coffin, through which they removed the body 
of St. Mark, and immediately afterwards put in its 
place the body of another saint, who, however, was 
of inferior grade. This removal was attended by 
a very wonderful circumstance. For no sooner 
had the body of St. Mark been brought forth into 
the open air than an odor was wafted forth from it, 
through all the surrounding space, of such exqui- 
site sweetness that all who came near the church 
were amazed and delighted at the heavenly fra- 
grance. Inquiries were made, and the tomb was 
narrowly inspected ; but none of the examiners 
were able to detect any difference. Thus they 
succeeded in removing the body from the tomb. 

“ The next trouble was about getting it on ship- 


36 


THE WINGED LION. 


board. This was effected by an ingenious device. 
The body was wrapped up so as to look as little 
like a human form as possible, and then, as it was 
carried through the streets, men went before it 
crying out, 1 Pork ! Pork ! ’ Now, as pork is an 
unclean thing among Mohammedans, and an object 
of horror, those whom they encountered were far 
more eager to get out of the way than to examine 
the precious bundle. 

“ A further trial yet remained. A search was 
always made by the city police before any ship was 
allowed to leave port, so as to see that no runaway 
slaves should escape, and no prohibited articles of 
commerce be taken away. There was great dan- 
ger that all their troubles might prove fruitless, 
since such a thing as the body of an evangelist 
would be discovered only too easily. But the wits 
M the Venetian captain were again able to devise 
a means of escape. He caused the body to be 
rolled up inside the sail, which was then furled 
close to the yard-arm. In this way it eluded all 
examination, and even suspicion. This was the 
last of the great trials, and nothing further hap- 
pened until St. Mark arrived in safety at that city 
which was thenceforth to be forever associated 
with his name. 

“The joy of the Venetians at this great acquisi- 
tion was unbounded. All the city turned out to 
receive the precious remains. The doge, and all 


ST. MARK. 


37 


the chief nobles, the clergy, the entire population, 
came to do him honor. Solemn services were held, 
accompanied with the pomp of magnificent cere- 
monies, and splendid processions, and feasting, and 
music, and universal joy. St. Mark was taken as 
the patron saint of Venice. His lion — with eagle’s 
wings — became her symbol, and the battle-cry of 
her warriors was to be the name of the saint. 

a So there is the lion ; and they used to have a 
very interesting fashion : in peace an open book 
was placed under his paws ; but in time of war the 
book was removed, and a drawn sword placed there 
in its stead.” 

While they had been looking at the Piazza, with 
its edifices and towers, and Vernon had been talk- 
ing, the boat had stopped ; but now it resumed its 
progress, and before long they came to their desti- 
nation. It was a lofty house, at a corner where 
one of the canal streets ran up from the Grand 
Canal. Here they landed, and went up to a 
handsome suite of apartments in the second story, 
from the windows of which there was a magnifi- 
cent view of the harbor and the suburbs of the 
city. 

11 If you will give me your aunt’s address,” said 
Vernon to Gracie, “ I will go off at once and get 
the police to see about her.” 

“ 0, thank you,” said Gracie, earnestly. “I shall 
feel so much relieved ! ” 


38 


THE WINGED LION. 


She then wrote down in Vernon’s pocket-book 
the name of her aunt : — 


&/hdd ^ee, 

^$odfo?i, G/^add. 

Vernon now hurried off, and was gone about an 
hour. 

“You need give yourself no further anxiety,” 
said he on his return. “ The police will send a mes- 
senger by the first train to-morrow, and at the same 
time they will keep a record of all who arrive in 
the city, and let me know.” 

This information filled Gracie with delight. She 
felt confident now that she would soon see her 
aunt. 


WONDERS OF ST. MARK. 


39 


CHAPTER III. 


St. Mark's and its Wonders. — The Story of the Demon 
Ship. — The Great Barbarossa. — The Artist’s Home. — 
The two mysterious Pictures . 



FTER taking lunch they all set forth to see 
the city, and first of all they went to the 
Piazza of St. Mark. 

Here they saw a spacious square surrounded by 
magnificent edifices. The lofty tower of St. Mark 
arose three hundred and fifty feet in the air. The 
Ducal Palace, with its long front adorned with pil- 
lars and arches, displayed its noble dimensions, 
and opened before them those dread portals which 
in former ages were the avenue to so much mys- 
tery and iniquity. The three tall flag- staffs lifted 
to heaven, not the Lion of Venice, nor the Double 
Eagle of Austria, but the banner of regenerated 
Italy. But the pride and glory of the Piazza, and ol 
all Venice, was the magnificent Cathedral of St. 
Mark, and it was to this that Vernon first conducted 
them. 

They saw a splendid edifice built of white mar- 
ble, and crowned with a cluster of swelling domes, 
which gave it an appearance rather of Aladdin’s 


40 


THE WINGED LION. 


Palace than of a Christian church. The whole front 
was ornamented with an immense number of col- 
umns, formed of every kind of precious marble, 
polished so as to show the richest and most gor- 
geous colors. They saw five noble portals opening 
into the Cathedral, and over each a vaulted recess 
that blazed with gold, whereon were mosaic pic- 
tures wrought in the most brilliant tints. Imme- 
diately over the chief portal they saw a deep re- 
cess, in which stood four bronze horses, — emblems 
not of the peaceful services of religion, but rather 
of the proud achievements of war, and carrying the 
mind back from the modern republic of Venice to 
the ancient republic of Pome. 

Entering, they found the interior fully corre- 
sponding with the promise of the exterior. Every- 
thing seemed to blaze with gold and brilliant col- 
oring. The floor, the walls, the vaulted roof, the 
lofty domes, were all covered with mosaic pictures 
wrought on gilded background. David and Clive 
had seen St. Peter’s, and therefore were not so 
deeply impressed by all this splendor as Grade. 
She had never yet seen anything half so gorgeous, 
and was loud in her expressions of admiration. 

11 How did the Venetians happen,” she asked, at 
length, “ to lavish such an enormous amount of 
treasure on St. Mark ? ” 

“0, why, I’m sure they had every reason to 
do so,” said Vernon. “ He was their patron saint. 
He gave them victory by land and sea. They 


A LEGEND. 


41 


gained all this by these victories, and the least they 
could do was to give some of it to him.” 

“ It seems to me rather a funny thing for a saint 
and an evangelist to do,” said Gracie, “ to become 
a sort of Christian Mars.” 

“ 0, but St. Mark was just as useful in peace,” 
said Vernon. “ 111 tell you a story if you like. It's 
a well-known legend of Venice, and is called 

The Demon Ship. 

u In the year 1341 there was a great inundation. 
The waters of the Adriatic, rising at the furious 
impulse of a prolonged and terrible storm, raged 
about the city, overflowing the basements of the 
houses, and sweeping over the Piazza of St. Mark’s 
till the billows of the sea broke against the Ducal 
Palace, and the Tower of St. Mark’s, and the Cathe- 
dral. Panic seized upon the city. The terror was 
universal. The horrified people thronged to im- 
plore the aid of their patron saint, and the clergy 
with the people standing deep in the water, which 
was now all over the Cathedral floor, sent up peti- 
tions to invoke the interposition of Heaven. 

“ It was on a night when the storm and the 
greatest terror were at their height, that a poor 
fisherman, who was in his boat, at the bank of the 
Piazza, was accosted by a stranger, who had waded 
through the darkness towards him. This stranger 
wished to be taken to San Giorgio Maggiore. On 
the refusal of the fisherman, the other persisted, 


42 


THE WINGED LION. 


and offered to give him a large sum for his services. 
The fisherman was poor, and had never in all his 
life had such a chance of gaining so large a sum ; 
yet the offer would not have tempted him to go. 
But there was something about the stranger which 
filled the fisherman with awe, and seemed to take 
away from him the power of refusal. Under this 
influence he prepared to obey, and taking his 
oars in silence, he put forth with the feeling of 
one who is going to certain death, and who has no 
power to fly. 

“ The storm was fierce, and even in the shelter 
of the city the sea ran high ; and the fisherman, 
after rowing some distance, began to think that 
his awful companion had some protective power. 
At length the boat reached its destination, and 
there stood a figure as if waiting for them. This 
one got on board, and the fisherman felt for him 
something of the same awe which the first passen- 
ger had inspired. 

“ He was now ordered to row out to the mouth 
of the harbor. This time he did not dare to refuse ; 
and besides, the very awe which kept him silent 
was associated with a conviction that his myste- 
rious companions" had power to save him from dan- 
ger. And so, with this mixture of awe and confi- 
dence, he put forth all his efforts. At every mo- 
ment the waves grew higher and more threatening. 
Never before had the fisherman known such a 
storm, and under ordinary circumstances it could 


A LEGEND. 


43 


not have lived in such a sea ; but now the boat 
breasted the stormy waves right gallantly, and at 
length reached the mouth of the harbor without 
having shipped a drop of water from all those angry 
waves. 

u Here the sea was terrific, and the storm raged 
worse than ever, at every moment rising to fresh 
fury and growing to a hurricane. But all the rage 
of the waves and the wrath of the storm was un- 
noticed by the fisherman in the presence of another 
spectacle which appeared before his eyes. 

“ For here, as he looked forth, he saw a huge 
galley driving down straight towards him, as though 
seeking to enter the city. But it was no ship 
in distress seeking a port, no ship of mortal man, 
that thus drove down before the gale. The strange 
ship was as black as midnight, with blue sulphur- 
ous flames disclosing her outlines and also her 
terrific crew. For the crew were all demons, who 
swarmed all over her masts and rigging, looking 
forth with furious eyes, gesticulating like maniacs, 
and howling and shrieking out words and impreca- 
tions that made his blood curdle within his veins, 
and his hair bristle with horror. Amid the din and 
uproar he could distinguish the words, over and 
over repeated with hideous curses — 1 Up with the 
storm and sea! Down with Yenice ! Sink her in 
the waters ! ’ 

“ At this moment his companions rose, making 
the sign of the cross, and the first passenger, in a 
stern voice of command, bade the demons to vanish. 


44 


THE WINGED LION. 


“ Scarce had the words been uttered than there 
was an instantaneous change. A wild and dreadful 
shriek rang out through the sky, the demon ship 
all seemed to collapse and tumble in upon itself, 
and vanished away utterly. The sea grew calm, 
the wind ceased, and deep silence reigned all 
around, while from afar there came to the ears of 
the astonished fisherman the sweet sounds of the 
bells of St. Mark’s. 

11 At a sign from the elder of the passengers the 
fisherman now rowed back to San Giorgio, where 
the two got out. 

u 1 Go to the governor/ said the first passen- 
ger, ‘and tell him that but for us Venice would 
have been destroyed. I am St. Mark. My com- 
panion is St. George.’ Then, taking a ring from 
his finger, he., added, ‘Show them this, and tell 
them to look for it in my treasury, whence it will 
be found missing.’ 

“ The fisherman did as he was told. On exami- 
nation the ring was found missing, and the fisher- 
man’s story was believed. They gave him a hand- 
some reward and an annual pension. In addition 
to this, solemn services were instituted in honor of 
the saints who had interposed to save Venice from 
so direful a calamity.” 

u Well,” said Gracie , u if a city does have a patron 
saint, it seems to me that fighting off demon ships 
is more in accordance with his Christian character 


THE GREAT BARBAROSSA. 


45 


than subduing foreign countries ; and so Pm much 
obliged to you for your story.” 

Yernon now took them to a place where there 
was a diamond- shaped slab of polished porphyry set 
in the pavement. 

“ This,” said he, 11 is the place where the Emperor 
Frederic Barbarossa knelt when he made his sub- 
mission to the pope.” 

“ You will have to tell me all about it,” said 
Gracie,” for I’m sorry to say that I know abso- 
lutely nothing about the Emperor Frederic Bar- 
barossa.” 

u I’ll try and make the story as short as possible,” 
said Yernon, “ so as not to be tiresome.” 

And with this he proceeded to tell the story of 

The Great Barbarossa. 

“ The war between Pope Alexander and the Em- 
peror Frederic Barbarossa had been raging for 
seventeen years. At length the emperor had lost 
his power on the sea, and the time soon came 
when he was to lose it on the land. The league 
of the Lombard cities had proved thus far invinci- 
ble, and now stood before him with a great army 
to fight the last battle for their liberties. Frederic 
hastened against them with a greater army, and 
the two opposing forces met at Legnano, where 
they fought one of the greatest battles of modern 
times. But Frederic had traitors in his camp, and 
Guelph, who led one quarter of his forces, held back 


46 


THE WINGED LION. 


from the contest. Frederic was defeated. His 
army was ruined, and he who had in the morning 
been the mightest ruler in Europe, in the evening 
fled from the field, with the prospect of irremedia- 
ble ruin lowering all around him. 

“ His grand army was lost. Guelph was false. 
The followers of Guelph were preparing to stir up 
all Germany against him. In the days of his power 
he had scoffed at the curse of the pope ; but now 
that he was a fallen man, the anathema crushed 
him into the dust. Never again could he hope to 
rise until that was taken away. 

“ Besides this, he thirsted for vengeance on the 
traitor to whom he attributed his ruin. For the 
sake of this he determined to sacrifice his pride. 
To get rid of the ban of the church — the terrible 
curse — was his first and most pressing necessity. 
Upon this he resolved, and he resolved also to sub- 
mit even to the lowest humiliation if he might but 
accomplish this. 

“ Once before a Roman emperor had humbled 
himself before a pope, and had shown to the 
world that the invisible weapons of the church 
were far stronger than arms of steel or disciplined 
legions of valiant warriors. The world was now 
to learn this lesson a second time. The Emperor 
Henry IY. had humbled himself before Gregory 
VII. at Canossa ; and now Frederic Barbarossa went 
to repeat this act of self-abasement before Alex- 
ander at Venice. 


THE GREAT BARBAROSSA. 


47 


“Venice heard and was glad. It was considered 
a triumph for the proud and valiant republic. The 
glory was Alexander’s, but Venice would share 
that glory. She had already humbled the emperor 
at sea. She could share in the triumph of those 
who had humbled him at Legnano. She had helped 
the pope with her powerful arm in the days of his 
exile ; she would now take a part in his triumph. 
The emperor was to bow down before the pope, 
but he was to do this act in Venice, and Venice 
should look on, and see it, and be glad. 

“ The emperor landed at the Piazzetta. The 
doge and all the nobility were there to receive him 
— an imposing cortege, representing all that was 
great or illustrious in Venice. In this way he was 
received, and then Avas conducted to the Piazza. 

“ There, on a chair in front of St. Mark’s, sat the 
pope, his mighty antagonist, — mighty, yet poor — 
the man who had fought with him so long, and who 
had won at last. He was clad in his pontifical 
vestments, with the triple crown upon his head, 
while around him stood a brilliant assemblage of 
cardinals, archbishops, bishops, and other high ec- 
clesiastics. All stood except the pope. He alone 
was seated, and he waited with a calm and tranquil 
face for the emperor. 

“ The emperor came forward. Then he uncov- 
ered and prostrated himself, casting aside at the 
same time his purple mantle. Then lie kissed the 
foot of the pope. 


48 


THE WINGED LION. 


“ And so there lay prostrate the mighty Fred- 
eric Barbarossa, Holy Roman Emperor, Lord of 
Germany and Italy, who claimed to be first mon- 
arch on earth. As he lay there thus prostrate, all 
the past came before the mind of Alexander. He 
had fought long and bravely. He had known the 
lowest depths of misfortune. He had known want 
and exile. He had been insulted, and persecuted, 
and hunted down over all Italy, by land and sea. 
He had known what it was to be alone, with noth- 
ing to rely on but his own inflexible soul. Now, at 
last, he had reached the hour of his triumph, and of 
that triumph he was not willing to lose one jot or 
tittle. He would enjoy it to the uttermost by 
abasing Federic to the uttermost. 

“ He placed his foot upon the head of the pros- 
trate emperor, and said these words of Scripture : — » 

“ 1 Thou shalt tread upon the lion and the adder ; 
the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample 
under foot.’ 

“From this bitter insult Frederic’s soul revolted. 

“ ‘ It is not to you] said he, in an indignant voice 
— 1 it is not to you that I bow ; it is to St. Peter . ’ 

“ Upon this the pope placed his foot a second 
time, and more firmly, upon the emperor’s head. 

“ 1 It is both to me and St. Peter,’ he said. 

“ With this he was satisfied, and after this the 
reconciliation was effected, and the anathema was 
taken off, and the emperor restored to communion 
with the church amid the most magnificent cere- 
monies.” 


ENCOMIUMS ON VENICE. 


49 


It was now too late in the day to visit the Ducal 
Palace ; so, after walking about the Piazza for a 
while, they returned to the gondola, and went up 
and down the Grand Canal. Venice appeared more 
beautiful and more picturesque than ever. Crowds 
of boats were out, and murmurs of conversation 
came over the water, mingled with the voice of 
song and the sharp cry of the gondoliers. Then 
came sunset, and our party returned to Vernon’s 
house. 

After dinner, Vernon set himself to the pleasing 
task of amusing his guests, in which there was not 
the slightest difficulty, for they all were in the high- 
est possible spirits. 

Clive and David were loud in their expressions 
of delight. Never had they seen any place which 
was equal to Venice. Naples, and Florence, and 
even Rome, were inferior. 

“ I’m very glad to hear that,” said Gracie. “ I’ve 
been half afraid, while I was enthusiastic about 
Venice, that you would crush me with your supe- 
rior knowledge, and fling at my devoted head those 
very cities — Naples, and Florence, and Rome. 
And what makes it ever so much nicer is, that I 
feel so much at ease about poor dear auntie. I 
suppose I shall hear about her to-morrow — shan’t 
I, Mr. Vernon?” 

“ Well, hardly to-morrow,” said Vernon. “You 
see they will send their messenger to-morrow, and 
4 


50 


THE WINGED LION. 


it is not likely that you will hear anything of her 
until the day after, unless she comes here.” 

“ 0, well,” said Gracie, with a little sigh, “ I 
shall leave it all to you and the police.” 

“ The day after to-morrow,” said Clive. “ I sup- 
pose Uncle Moses will be here by that time.” 

“ They’ll be sorry enough,” said David, 11 that 
they didn’t come wdth us — won’t they ? ” 

11 Won’t they, though ! ” said Clive. 11 1 bet they 
will.” 

Yernon was attentive to all his guests, but to 
Gracie he was most devoted. In fact, Gracie was 
one to whom every one felt inclined to devote him- 
self, and David and Clive looked at her with that 
chivalrous homage which is felt by every high- 
minded boy for youth, and loveliness, and elegant 
refinement. All these were present in Gracie. She 
was like a sunbeam in the artist’s home ; her name 
was appropriate indeed, for there was an ineffable 
grace in her look, her attitude, her gestures, while 
in her voice there was a certain indefinable charm 
which was irresistible. 

“ He’s awfully fond of Gracie,” whispered Clive 
to David, as Yernon sat and talked with her. 

“ So am I,” said David, with a low groan. 

11 You’re not half so fond of her as I am,” said 
Clive. 

“ Pooh ! ” said David ; “ you don’t begin even to 
understand what it is to feel as I feel.” 

“ I,” said Clive, “ I not understand ! Let me 
tell you, mister — ” 


VERNON’S PICTURES. 


51 


But here they were interrupted by Vernon. 

“ Come, boys,” said he ; “ I’m going to show some 
of my pictures : would you like to see them ? ” 

Wouldn’t they, though ! 

The invitation was received with enthusiasm, 
and Vernon led the way to an adjoining apartment, 
which was fitted up as a studio. Here there was 
an easel with an unfinished picture. At one side 
of the room was another picture, and to this Ver- 
non led them. 

It represented a scene in a Venetian palace. 
There was a young man, thin and haggard, to whom 
an elderly lady was clinging. Opposite these sat 
an old man, richly dressed as a Venetian noble. 
He held a letter in his hands, which he appeared to 
be reading. The chief point in this picture was the 
old man’s face. There was horror in it, and amaze- 
ment, together with remorse ; and it seemed as if 
all these, struggling together, had quite over- 
whelmed him. 

They all looked in profound silence, and Gracie 
at length asked what it was about. 

u 1 will tell you afterwards,” said Vernon; “but 
before I tell you I should like to show you this 
picture. It is not quite finished, but you can see 
what the idea is.” 

This was the picture on the easel. It was a 
scene in a masquerade. They recognized the 
place, for it was the Grand Piazza. Amid the crowd 
there were three in masks. Two of these appeared 


52 


THE WINGED LION. 


to be lovers, who were shrinking back as if in fear ; 
the third was a large, stern man, somewhat elderly, 
who was the chief figure. From behind his mask 
the artist had succeeded in suggesting an expres- 
sion of intense rage and fury, which was stamped 
upon his cruel mouth, and gleamed from his fiery 
eyes. 

“ I wish we could know what these pictures are 
about,” said Grade. 

“I have the stories written out,” said Yernon, 
11 and I’ll read them to you, if you care to hear 
them. After that you can look at the pictures 
again, and let me know what you think of them.” 

They all returned to the room now, and Yernon, 
producing some manuscripts, began to read. 


ANTENORE AND GALBAJO. 


53 


CHAPTER IV. 



Vernon reads to his Guests the Story of Antenore and 
Galbajo . 

NTENORE was one of the haughtiest nobles 
of Venice. No one was so jealous as he 
about the rights and privileges of the pa- 
trician class, so obstinate in his refusal to grant 
any concessions to the lower orders, or so indig- 
nant at what he called their presumption, when 
any of them ventured by a fortunate speculation 
to increase his means, and rise a little in the scale 
of being. For there were many of these far be- 
neath Antenore in rank, who had dared to make 
money, and to exhibit the signs of wealth in their 
persons and surroundings. With these he was 
compelled to have business connection, to traffic 
with them, to talk with them on the Piazza : but 
such intercourse was always revolting to his pride. 

Among those who most particularly excited his 
dislike was the merchant Galbajo. His wealth 
was great ; he had made it all himself ; and yet 
he showed none of that vanity and self-assertion 
which often mark the self-made man. He was 
popular among the men of his own order, and his 


54 


THE WINGED LION. 


simple and unaffected manners might have dis- 
armed resentment everywhere. But Galbajo was 
too prosperous ; he had a genius for money-mak- 
ing, and he could not remain free from the assaults 
of envy and detraction. For this man of the peo- 
ple presumed to be fortunate when others were 
unfortunate ; in boldness of speculation, and in ex- 
tent of enterprise, he began to rival the great 
merchant princes themselves ; and his uniform 
success was such that Antenore darkly hinted at 
mysterious violations of the law. The truth was, 
that Galbajo had an unusual talent for commercial 
enterprises ; he was daring, yet prudent ; watch- 
ful, yet bold : moreover his household was simple, 
and his personal expenditure small, so that all his 
gains were k§pt to accumulate in his hands ; while 
the wealthy nobles, who lived in great state, ex- 
pended their money as fast as they made it. All 
this excited jealousy. Antenore’s malicious hints 
stirred up suspicion, and large numbers of people 
were influenced by him to look upon Galbajo as a 
successful knave and hypocrite, who under a pre- 
tence of great simplicity concealed a long career 
of duplicity and crime. 

Such was the state of affairs, when one day a 
ship arrived from Smyrna for Galbajo. It was 
just the time when the truce with the Turks had 
ended, and war had recommenced. All other 
merchants had recalled their ships. These ships 
were in the docks, and the merchants were idle, 


ANTENORE AND GALBAJO. 


55 


without much hope of resuming active enterprises. 
At such a time as this the arrival of Galbajo ? s ship 
excited universal comment, and Antenore intensi- 
fied the suspicions that were expressed. Who 
was Galbajo, that he could do business when all 
other merchants are idle ? How does it happen 
that he alone is not affected by the war ? There 
must be some reason for this ; and the reason is, 
that he has a secret and treasonable understanding 
with the enemy. Such were Antenore’s words, 
and these sentiments were soon so wide-spread 
that the government took it up, and Galbajo was 
arrested. 

The explanation which he gave to his judges 
was simple and straightforward. According to 
this, his ship had left Smyrna before the outbreak 
of the war, but had met with various unavoidable 
delays. A tempest had forced her to take refuge 
in Corfu, where she had been o'verhauled, and re- 
ceived repairs. This would account for the arrival 
of the ship from a Turkish port in time of war. 

This simple explanation, however, was not re- 
ceived. The influence of Antenore was strong, 
and his dark suggestions were listened to only 
too readily. Galbajo’s statement was taken to be 
the cunning invention of one who had prepared 
himself for the possibility of discovery, and had 
armed himself against it. It was plausible, but 
the accusation was more probable. It was more 
likely that Galbajo should be successful as a rogue 


56 


THE WINGED LION. 


than as an honest man. The result was, that Gal- 
bajo was found guilty. The sentence was a severe 
one. He was condemned for plotting treason 
against the state. The ordinary punishment was 
death; but, as there was some flaw in the evidence, 
the judges gave him the benefit of the doubt, and 
were willing to consider the charge as not exactly 
proved. His life would therefore be spared, and 
the state would be satisfied with banishing him for 
life. At the same time one half of his property 
was to be confiscated. 

The confiscation of one half of Galbajo’s property 
meant the loss of nearly all, for it was disposed of 
by a forced sale, and in time of war, too, so that it 
was virtually sacrificed. Then, after the loss of all, 
the unfortunate Galbajo found before him a still 
greater loss — that of his country. His sentence 
was banishment for life, and with the wreck of his 
property he prepared to leave. He knew well who 
it was that had been at the bottom of all his mis- 
fortunes. Antenore never had taken any pains to 
conceal his hate, and Galbajo had heard of all his 
words and acts. But opposition was useless, and 
resistance impossible ; so he submitted without a 
word, and left the unjust city to go in his old age 
on a far distant exile. 

The war now went on. The Turks were tri- 
umphant everywhere/ The Venetian fleets were 
driven from the sea, and the Crescent flag waved 
proudly where once had floated the haughty Lion 


ANTENORE AND GALBAJO. 


57 


of St. Mark. Defeat followed defeat. The Vene- 
tians sank into despondency. At length all these 
misfortunes culminated in the tidings which came 
one day — that the last fleet of the republic had 
been worsted in a great naval action ; that it had 
fled in disgrace, with the loss of half its ships ; 
that thousands of Venetians had been made prison- 
ers ; and that the command of the seas was lost for- 
ever. With the general distress we have nothing 
to do. It is enough to add, that among those who 
were captured by the Turks was the only son of 
Antenore. 

To that unhappy noble this blow was a crushing 
one. All the hopes of his family had been centred 
upon this young man ; for he was the only son, and 
the last prop of an ancient house. To him, and to 
him alone, the father looked as his successor to tha 
proud honors of the Antenori, and as the stay and 
solace of his declining years. Now he was gone,, 
and with him the family name and family famo 
would sink into oblivion. 

There was no hope whatever to Antenore. It 
was not then as it is now, in this nineteenth cen- 
tury, when civilized nations are at war, and efforts 
are made to alleviate its inevitable horrors • when 
the prisoners are treated with humanity, and have 
hopes of speedy exchange. War in this age was 
very different, and especially so when it was war 
between Turks and Christians. In one sense 
there was always war with the Turks. The Mo- 


58 


THE WINGED LION. 


hammedans would never consent to make peace. 
They always called it a truce, and made it for a 
stipulated term of years, but always merely for their 
own convenience. During these times of truce, 
there was often an exchange of prisoners, and also 
a chance for ransoming Christian captives, if they 
could only be found. But now all chance of ex- 
change or ransom was far, far away, for the war 
had only begun. Years must pass before it could 
be ended ; and who could say whether Yenice her- 
self might survive until then. All those years the 
captive must languish. The thought was anguish 
to Antenore. Willingly would he have given his 
own life to redeem that beloved son from captivity. 
Such a fate was worse than death. For death, 
with all its horror, once past, might be endured, 
and the bereaved ones might be soothed by time ; 
but captivity forced itself forever on the thoughts ; 
and the wretched father bore with him always the 
image of his son, pining in chains, fainting under 
the scourge, or dying daily of a broken heart. 

The Palazzo Antenore was shrouded in gloom. 
All joy was banished. The stricken mother sank 
under this blow, and could only wish for death. 
The father tried to bear it with a Stoic’s pride ; 
but pride was only a poor support when mental 
anguish was undermining all the foundations of 
life. Yet still he struggled as well as he could 
against his deep affliction, and tried to find in the 
routine duties of his official station some means of 
distracting his thoughts. 


ANTENORE AND GALBAJO. 


59 


At length, one day there came a galley to 
Venice. A young man disembarked, and, taking 
a gondola, proceeded to the Palazzo Antenore. 
The vast pile looked gloomy and deserted. A 
few servants stood in the hall with dreary and 
dejected looks. No longer were there those gay 
throngs which of old had filled the great house 
with life and animation. All was desolation and 
melancholy. 

The young man rushed in. The servants stared 
in amazement. He dashed by them without a 
word, ascending the grand staircase, and travers- 
ing the great gallery, whose walls were covered 
with pictures, until at length he reached a room at 
the end. This he entered. 

There was but one occupant in the room — an 
old man, who sat with his head bowed in his 
hands. So absorbed was he in his thoughts that 
he neither saw nor heard the new comer. The 
young man stood for a moment, and then went up 
to him. 

11 Father ! 

It was but a single word. At the sound of that 
word, and of that voice, the old man started to his 
feet, and stared at the new comer with a white face, 
and something like horror in his look. 

“ 0, my son ! ” he moaned ; “ 0, my son ! Is it all 
over ? Do you come from the dead to tell — ! ” 

“ The dead ! ” cried the other, catching the old 
man in his embrace. “ No, thank God ! I am alive. 


60 


THE WINGED LION. 


I have just arrived, and have hurried here to bring 
you the good news.” 

The old man trembled, but it was with excess of 
utter joy. He could not say one word ; but holding 
his beloved son in his arms, he clung to him, and 
sobbed convulsively. 

“ My mother,” said the young man, “ how is she ? 
Is she — is she alive ? ” 

“Yes,” said Antenore. “ 0, yes, come — come 
anji raise her up from her despair. Come and 
show her that her son yet lives. But no — wait 
— not yet — the shock will be too much. Let me 
go first, and prepare her. Wait.” 

He retired hastily, and after a few moments’ ab- 
sence returned. Another was with him, wild with 
joy. It was the mother, who had read the wonder- 
ful news in her husband’s face, and without waiting 
for any words, had hurried forth to meet her son. 

That meeting cannot be described. For a long 
time nothing was uttered except ejaculations ex- 
pressive of every variation of love, wonder, and 
joy. But at last, as the first rush of feeling began 
to subside, they were eager to know how he had 
escaped, or whether he had been a captive at all. 

“ A captive ! ” said the young man. “ Ay, that I 
have been, and I have tasted all the utmost bitter- 
ness of such a lot. But Heaven had pity on me, 
and sent to me, in my misery, the noblest of men. 
He saved me.” 

“ Saved you ? What ! ” cried Antenore. “ Is 


ANTENORE AND GALBAJO. 


61 


there any living man who has done this thing ? 0 

that I could see him ! Is he here ? Did he come 
with you ? Why did you not bring him with you ? 
O that I could see him ! If he is poor, I would 
share with him all that I have in the world ; if he 
is rich, I would seek to keep him here with me ; 
and in either case, I would fall on my knees before 
him, and tell him that I thanked him as I thank 
' my God.” 

“ He did not come with me,” said the son ; “ he 
is a Greek. He is rich also, and needs no reward. 
God alone can reward him ; we never can. His 
name is Angelus.” 

“ Angelus ! Rightly is he called Angelus,” 
cried Antenore, u for he has been an angel, sent 
by Heaven to restore my son. Is he indeed a 
mortal man? A Greek! Impossible. Are you sure 
that he is a mortal man ? ” 

u He is a man,” said the son, u yet the noblest 
of men. He saw me languishing, sick, broken- 
hearted, dying. He purchased me. He took me 
to his home. He nursed me, and brought me back 
to life and health. Never did any one man show 
such love to another. It was as though my own 
father had found me, and had saved me. And I 
loved him as a son, for I saw that he loved me as 
a father. 0, father ! 0, mother ! pray while you 
live for the noble Angelus, who saved me from 
my agony. And he, too, had his sorrows. I could 
see that he was a man of woe — a man who had 


62 


THE WINGED LION. 


suffered some great bereavement. It seemed to 
me always as if he had lost an only son, and 
that I reminded him of that son, and therefore he 
loved me.” 

The aged parents sat close by their son, each 
holding a hand. There seemed to them something 
inexpressibly sad in this description of Angelus — 
the one who had lost an only son. Tears came to 
their eyes ; they pressed more closely the hands of 
that dear one who had been lost, but restored. ' 

u It was his very love for me,” continued the 
son, “ which sent me home. Had his love been 
less, he might have kept me, and merely sent word 
to you of my safety ; but he loved me so well that 
he sacrificed even his own feelings ; and I know 
this, for he told me so himself. 1 Your father/ 
said he to me, 1 does not love you better than I. 
It is because I love you so well, that I can bear 
to give you up. I shall be happier in your happi- 
ness than in my own. I shall miss you ; but I 
shall always console myself that you are happy 
with your parents, and in your dear native land.’ ” 

“ Did he say that ? ” said Antenore, in a falter- 
ing voice. u Did he say that ? Then, 0, my son, 
I can find it in my heart to wish that you had 
staid with him longer, and merely sent me word 
of your safety.” 

u I proposed this,” said the son, “ but he would 
not consent. 1 No/ said he ; 1 go home. Your par- 
ents are old. Go now, or you may never see them 
again ; ’ and so I left him.” 


ANTENORE AND GALBAJO. 


63 


u 0, may the Lord of mercy bless the man who 
showed such love and mercy to my son ! ” 

Such was the ejaculation of Antenore at the con- 
clusion of his son’s story. 

“ He gave me a letter/’ said the son, “ for you.” 

11 A letter ! for me ! ” said Antenore. u 0, let me 
see it.” 

The son drew forth a letter from his pocket, and 
handed it to his father. Antenore drew off a little, 
and with a face of eager and joyous anticipation, 
broke the seal. He read the following : — 

“ With this letter you will receive back to your 
heart your only son, the last of your line. It is 
not because he is an Antenore that I have helped 
him, but because I was w T on, in spite of myself, by 
his face, by his looks, and by the tones of his voice ; 
for they all brought back before me my beloved, 
my lost Venice. Banished by you, I came to 
Alexandria, and live here in disguise as a Greek ,* 
but my heart clings to my country, and for me 
there is nothing but misery in exile. I have 
wealth and comforts, but these are nothing. I 
met your son by chance, and I loved him as my 
own son, for he was a Venetian. Willingly would 
I have kept him with me to soothe my exile, but 
I loved him too well for that, and so I send him 
home. Take him, then, for you are his father ; 
take him — a gift from the man you most hate ; 
take him from the man whom you never expected 


64 


THE WINGED LION. 


to find your benefactor ; for know, 0 Antenore, 
that the deliverer of your only son from slavery is 
— t- the banished Galbajo.” 

Antenore dropped the letter from his trembling 
hands. His face lost that flush of joy which his 
son’s return had brought, and was now livid with 
horror. He could only gasp one word, and that 
was, — 

“ Galbctjo ! ” 

He was overwhelmed now with remorse and 
bitter self-reproach. Now he learned, when too 
late, the true character of that man whose noble 
heart had been well nigh broken by the torments 
which had been inflicted upon him. And why ? 
For no other cause than a cursed jealousy. And 
this was his return. His joy at the sight of his 
son was marred by this remorse, and he felt that 
he could never know peace of mind again until he 
should see Galbajo in Venice. 

To this work he now devoted himself. He was 
successful. Antenore’s explanations, and his story 
of Galbajo’s noble conduct, together with the influ- 
ence which he had in high quarters, led to meas- 
ures which ended in an order for the termination 
of the period of banishment. A Turkish prisoner 
was found, who was released in order to convey to 
Alexandria the welcome news. Galbajo received 
the letters sent him, and succeeded in effecting his 
escape. He at length returned to Venice, and 


ANTENORE AND GALBAJO. 65 

there Antenore fulfilled the promise that he had 
made in the first meeting with his son ; all the fer- 
vent gratitude to his son’s benefactor, which he 
had then expressed, was now plainly manifested ; 
and the old jealous hatred gave way to respectful 
affection and intimate friendship. 

5 


66 


THE WINGED LION. 


CHAPTER Y. 

The second Story. — The wonderful A dventures of 
Soranzo. 

t T was a great festival at St. Mark’s. The in- 
terior of the gorgeous church was filled with 
a devout multitude. The altars were all 
ablaze with lights, which flashed upon the polished 
marbles and the gilded domes. The smoke of in- 
cense rolled on high ; the peal of the organ came 
reverberating along the arches ; and the antipho- 
nal chant of the choristers mingled with the intoning 
of the priests, or the miserere of five thousand wor- 
shippers. 

One young man there was in that great crowd 
who did not seem to be joining in the common 
worship. The object of his worship was not “ Our 
Lady,” but nevertheless it was a lady of slender 
and graceful figure, who was kneeling with droop- 
ing head upon the stone pavement not far away. 
He, too, was kneeling, yet in such a way that he 
could look at her; and his eyes never removed 
themselves from her. It was a face of exquisite^ 
beauty, of classic features, with that creamy white 
complexion which is so rarely found, and which 


THE SECOND STORY. 


67 


was long the boast of Venetians as the chief charm 
of their women. The head was bent forward, the 
downcast eyes sought the pavement, and the long, 
silken fringe of eyelashes hid them from sight. As 
the young man gazed, she raised herself and looked 
full towards him. Their eyes met ; a slight flush 
passed over her free, a quick smile over her lips. 
It was a recognition, but it was only of a moment’s 
duration, for her eyes once more fell, and she did 
not raise them again. 

At length the service was over, and the crowd 
began to disperse. The young lady walked away 
along with an elderly woman, her attendant. The 
young man followed close, and in the crowd suc- 
ceeded in slipping a letter into the lady’s hand, 
which letter was taken by the other as naturally 
as though she had expected it. Then she passed 
away. 

Bianca Polani, the young lady just mentioned, 
belonged to one of the greatest families in Venice. 
Her father had won distinction at home and abroad, 
and was noted for his insatiable ambition. To rise 
higher and higher had always been his aim : to 
those above him he was obsequious, to those be- 
low him tyrannical ; and if he loved his beautiful 
daughter, it was rather because he saw in her the 
means of making some lofty alliance by which 
he might gain additional rank or power. From 
such a man the lady Bianca’s lover, Soranzo, could 
never hope to receive any favors whatever. Noth- 


68 


THE WINGED LION. 


ing was against Soranzo but his poverty ; yet this, 
in Venice, was a dire offence. It was always a 
purse-proud community — an aristocracy of mer- 
chant princes, who prided themselves on their lin- 
eage, it is true, yet always allowed the genealogi- 
cal tree to be influenced by the ledger. Soranzo’s 
family was of great renown. His name was in- 
scribed on the Libro d ? Oro, the Golden Book, which 
contained the names of the Venetian nobles. Doges 
had been chosen in former ages out of that illustri- 
ous line. Their very downfall had been glorious. 
It was during the war of Cliiozza. The Soranzi 
had given up everything that they possessed in the 
hour of their country’s direst need, and after the 
struggle was over, nothing was left but the walls 
of their ancestral palace. True, the state had en- 
deavored to reward all those who had done it ser- 
vice, but its rewards were chiefly in rank and 
honors. The wealth of the Soranzi never came 
back. Nothing was left but their glorious past ; 
and Giuglio Soranzo entered upon life, the owner 
of a splendid name, and an empty palace, which 
was going to ruin from its very vastness. He had 
seen Bianca, and loved her. His love was returned. 
They had met and told their mutual love. But 
their meetings had to be clandestine, for the poor 
Soranzo could not be admitted to pay his attentions 
to the daughter of the wealthy Polani. 

On this occasion, Soranzo had given Bianca a 
note which imparted very important intelligence. 


WONDERFUL ADVENTURES OF SORANZO. 69 


For the young man, full of energy and hope, could 
no longer live in idleness at Venice. His very 'de- 
sire to win Bianca prompted him to be up and 
doing. He had, therefore, offered his services to 
the government. His offer had been accepted, and 
the letter informed Bianca of his speedy depar- 
ture. It also implored her to grant him a final 
meeting on the following evening. There was to 
be a masquerade on the Piazza. He would expect 
her. 

So beautiful and wealthy a maiden as Bianca was 
not without crowds of suitors, but among them all 
by far the most distinguished was Malapieri. He 
was about as old as Bianca’s father, — a noble of 
immense wealth and great distinction. He had 
lost his first wife, and was anxious to place the 
beautiful Bianca over his household. To Polani 
this proposal was most acceptable. An alliance 
with Malapieri would give him that additional 
strength which he desired, in order to advance 
himself in the state ; and therefore, so far as he 
could act in the matter, the affair was decided. 
Far different, however, was it with Bianca. Apart 
from her love of Soranzo, she could never have 
consented to become the wife of Malapieri. He 
was old, and harsh, and abhorrent. She both hated 
and feared him. To pass her life with such a man 
would be terrible. Her family, however, treated 
her repugnance with indifference. They set it 
down as a young girl’s whims. At the same time 


70 


THE WINGED LION. 


they suspected that she might have some love 
affair. These suspicions were communicated to 
Malapieri, and Bianca became closely watched. 

Bianca, however, had one faithful friend. This 
was the old attendant already mentioned. She 
had taken care of Bianca all her life, and knew all 
her secrets, not excepting even this. It was by 
her connivance that Soranzo had been able to speak 
to his love, and with her assistance Bianca expected 
to see him again. 

The masquerade took place. Bianca went there 
with her attendant, wearing a dress which Soranzo 
knew, and she was at once accosted by her lover. 

u I cannot live without you,” said he ; “ and 
therefore I am going to leave you.” 

u To leave me ! ” she repeated, mournfully. 

“ Yes ; that is my only hope. I wish to win dis- 
tinction, and wealth also. I have got a post in the 
fleet that is going to Negropont.” 

u Negropont ? ” 

Bianca could say nothing ; she could only repeat 
these words, which seemed to her full of despair. 

“ It is best,” said Soranzo. “ I shall have a 
chance to distinguish myself. Trust me ; when I 
come back, I shall no longer be obliged to stand 
outside your door.” 

Other words followed, in the midst of which Bi- 
anca suddenly caught Soranzo’s arm with a convul- 
sive grasp. 

“ He knew us ! ” she murmured. 


MALAPIERI ALARMED. 


71 


“He? Who?” 

Bianca looked towards a man who had just passed. 

“ It is Malapieri ! ” she said, in a frightened voice. 
“ I know his dress. He stared at us so fiercely 
that his eyes were like coals of fire. He must be 
watching us.” 

Soranzo knew very well what Malapieri’s atten- 
tions were ; and he thought it quite probable that 
the aged lover was jealous. 

“ 0, never mind,” said he. “ That danger is re- 
moved. For Malapieri is to command the fleet, 
and so he will not trouble you till he returns.” 

“ Malapieri ! ” cried Bianca, in consternation ; 
“ and you ! — are you going with him ? ” 

“ 0, yes. Malapieri’s appointment was very sud- 
den. Fie did not like it, but could not get out of 
it. It came in a very flattering way, although I 
dare say there are some who would be very well 
pleased if he never came back.” 

“ I know one person,” said Bianca, with a little 
sigh. 

Their interview soon ended. Like others, it was 
very short, and soon the two lovers had bidden each 
other a long farewell. 

The forebodings which Bianca had felt as to So- 
ranzo’s sailing under Malapieri were soon proved 
to be well founded The position of Malapieri gave 
him absolute power over all in the fleet ; all felt his 
severity ; but most of all, Soranzo. He had dis- 
covered that this youth was the object of Bianca’s 


72 


THE WINGED LION. 


favor, without whom the young maiden might per- 
haps have been won by himself, without a father’s 
coercion. Malapieri was therefore full of jealous 
fury, and set himself on the watch to gratify his 
passion by the ruin of his rival. The task was not 
a difficult one. Words of bitter insult which he 
addressed to Soranzo were resented somewhat 
warmly, whereupon the young man was at once 
arrested and put in irons. It was a wanton exer- 
cise of authority, and an unlawful act, for no V ene- 
tian noble could be put in irons except by the 
Council of Ten. But Malapieri was resolved to 
take the consequences, and felt confident in being 
able to hold his own against the friendless youth. 

On reaching the mouth of the Adriatic Sea, a 
Turkish fleet appeared. It was not superior in 
numbers to that of Malapieri, but nevertheless the 
Venetian admiral resolved to avoid an engage- 
ment. The government, he said, had sent him to 
take supplies to Negropont, and a sea fight, even 
if successful, might ruin the purpose of the expe- 
dition. He therefore steered in another direction, 
and the Turkish fleet set forth in pursuit. Now, 
when Soranzo had been thrown in irons, he had 
been transferred to one of the galleys, which was 
the smallest and slowest in the fleet. As the chase 
went on, this galley fell behind the others. Her 
captain signalled, but in vain. Malapieri paid no 
attention to the signals, but urging on the rest of 
the fleet to the utmost, fled at full speed. The 


AN END TO SORANZO ? S HOPES. 


73 


Turks, meanwhile, pursued with equal vigor, and 
soon overhauled Soranzo’s galley. In an instant it 
was boarded and captured, and all were made pris- 
oners. After this the Turks kept up the pursuit 
for some time, but without gaining on the fugitives, 
until at last, as evening came, the Turkish admiral 
signalled to return. 

So ended the bright hopes of Soranzo. Stopped 
short before he had a chance to strike a single 
blow ; instead of renown, captivity ; instead of Bi- 
anca, a brutal Turkish master ; he might well have 
sunk into despair. The faint hope remained of 
being captured by a Venetian fleet, but even this 
died out, and he found himself at last landed at 
Smyrna, where he was handed over with some oth- 
ers to a Turkish aga, who lived at Vourla, a sea- 
port near by. 

Malapieri succeeded in teaching Negropont ; but 
here a series of disasters befell him. The Vene- 
tians were beset by the Turks. Post after post fell 
into the hands of the enemy. The island proved 
untenable. It was lost to Venice, and at length the 
unfortunate admiral returned in a single miserable 
galley, leaving the rest of his fleet in the hands of 
the Turks, or at the bottom of the sea. His arri- 
val caused consternation in Venice. It seemed 
ominous of the future. The dreaded Turk was 
sweeping away from Venice, one by one, those pos- 
sessions for which she had expended so much blood 
and treasure. The Christian capital of the East had 


74 


THE WINGED LION. 


fallen. The Morea was lost. Candia was threat- 
ened. Venice was insulted in her own waters, and 
the espousal of the Adriatic was fast growing a 
miserable mockery The Crescent was driving 
out the Cross ; the Mediterranean was growing a 
Turkish lake ; and soon the fierce sultan would be 
sending his navies to attack Venice itself. Such 
was the universal feeling ; and if Malapieri escaped 
blame, it was because all men, in their dejection, at- 
tributed his failure to the general ill fortune which 
had come upon Venice. 

Malapieri now returned to his palace, glad that 
he had saved his own precious life, and eager now 
to carry through the important project of marry- 
ing Bianca. He would make amends for his mis- 
fortunes abroad by seeking after happiness at 
home, and successful love should requite him for 
unsuccessful ambition. 

Meanwhile Bianca had heard all ; she had heard 
that Soranzo had been mutinous, had been arrested, 
and had been captured by the Turks. Malapieri 
himself told her his own story, and added that it 
was fortunate that Soranzo had been captured, for 
if he had been brought back to Venice lie would 
have been executed. This speech only increased 
Bianca’s hate towards Malapieri ; yet at the same 
time the thought of her lover’s hopeless captivity 
preyed upon her heart. She lost all taste for 
pleasure, shut herself up, and rapidly grew ill. 
The physician came to see her, but could do noth- 


IMPATIENCE OF MALAPIERI. 


75 


ing. In fact, Bianca’s wretchedness was far be- 
yond the skill of any physician. Her father saw 
it all with deep concern. Her mother understood 
the cause, and said that her heart was broken. 
And so for a while they forbore to say anything 
about Malapieri. 

But Malapieri was impatient. He was advanced 
in years. Bianca, he said, could afford to wait, but 
he couldn’t. Better to marry now, and no doubt 
under his tender care she would soon grow better. 
Old Polani was won over by tliis, and began to in- 
sist on Bianca’s marriage. He himself made a set 
speech to her, in which he spoke solemnly of the 
necessity of children obeying their parents. To 
all of this Bianca said not one word, but afterwards, 
as she lay weeping on her mother’s bosom, she 
sobbed out, u I shall die ; drive me from you if you 
choose ; but at least you might let me die at home, 
and not among strangers whom I hate.” 

u 0, no,” said her mother, who tried to console 
her, though it was with tearful eyes and quaking 
heart. “ 0, no, dearest child ; you will live to be 
the first lady in Venice — perhaps the dogaressa.” 

While Bianca was thus mourning and weeping, 
Soranzo was far away in Vourla, a slave, laboring 
with other slaves about the estate of his master. 
But his ardent and impetuous nature never for one 
moment submitted to his fate ; on the contrary, he 
always looked out with sleepless vigilance to see 
if there were any chances of escape. 


76 


THE WINGED LION. 


There were other Christian captives here, and a 
Turkish guard was considered sufficient to prevent 
any attempt at escape, so that they were not bound. 
With these, Soranzo discussed the chances of 
flight, and soon proposed to them a daring plan. 
Out in the little harbor was a galley, which was 
used by the aga for certain duties to which he was 
appointed. There were two hundred Christian 
slaves on board at the oars, with a small guard of 
Turkish marines. The plan of Soranzo was to take 
advantage of the moment when the Turks were at 
prayer, attack them, disarm them, seize the galley, 
and fly. 

It was a bold plan, and was crowned with com- 
plete success. The Turks were overpowered, their 
arms were seized, and a rush was then made upon 
the galley. The marines here fired a few shots 
without effect, and then in a panic leaped into the 
sea. Soranzo, in a few fierce words, told the Chris- 
tian rowers what had happened, and bade them 
row for their lives if they hoped ever again to 
see their country and their friends. The rowers 
understood the whole, and rowed as they had never 
done before. The galley stood out to sea, several 
Turkish ships of war were passed, but no pursuit 
was made, for the galley was supposed to be on 
duty. 

On the following day they were far out at sea. 
Here they fell in with a Turkish galley. Soranzo’s 
rowers were exhausted ; to fly was impossible ; to 


SORANZO AT THE HELM. 


77 


fight was equally so, for the supply of arms was 
inadequate. For a moment it seemed as though all 
was lost, but before long his inventive genius, stim- 
ulated by the desperate peril around him, contrived 
a plan of attack. Sending men aloft, he loosened 
the fastenings of the long yard by which it was 
bound to the mast, and also unfurled the immense 
sail. The sail caught the wind ; Soranzo stood at 
the helm, and directing the men to row with all 
their might, bore down full upon the Turkish gal- 
ley. The Turks, unprepared for this sudden at- 
tack, hauled round so as to rake Soranzo’s vessel 
with a volley of all sorts of missiles. Soranzo re- 
ceived the volley, but without much harm, and still 
drove on. The Turks prepared to board. Soran- 
zo’s galley struck the enemy’s quarter, and as they 
were all crowded together there, so as to board, 
the immense yard, with its sail loosened from its 
fastenings by the shock of the collision, fell upon 
them, entangling and half smothering them in its 
folds ; so that Soranzo and his men, who poured on 
board, captured them all without resistance. 

The prize was a great one. Five hundred Chris- 
tians were at the oars. These were freed at once. 
Two hundred Turks laid down their arms. These 
were distributed among the rescued Christians. 
What was better, great stores of weapons were 
found, sufficient to arm all the Christians in both 
ships, so that they now felt themselves equal to en- 
counter any Turkish force. Finally, the Turkish 


78 


THE WINGED LION. 


prisoners were consigned to the oars, and forced 
to row the galleys. The number, however, was 
not quite sufficient, so that the Christians were in- 
termingled with them. 

They now resumed their journey. For three 
days nothing happened, but on the fourth they en- 
countered three Turkish ships. Soranzo was bent 
upon an encounter. In a fiery harangue he poured 
his own spirit into his followers. “ Let us not go 
back home empty-handed,” he cried. “ Let us re- 
venge ourselves on these devils for all our wrongs. 
Those ships must be ours, or I will not survive the 
fight.” 

The men responded with a wild cheer. Up went 
the standard of Venice to the mast-head, displaying 
the proud blazonry of the Winged Lion of St. Mark, 
and Soranzo bore down upon the enemy. 

He had now thought upon another manoeuvre, 
and had instructed his men to carry it out. The 
first galley was to engage the smallest of the Turks, 
board her, and carry her by force of superior num- 
bers, and while fighting, free the Christian oars- 
men. He himself determined to engage the other 
two. 

He now caused all the heaviest weights on board 
to be placed on one side. On a given signal the 
men were to rush to that side so as to bear down 
the galley, and then make an attack upon the Turks 
from that direction. With this plan he drove upon 
the enemy, and soon had closed with them. He 


CHRISTIAN ROWERS FREED. 


79 


steered so as to bring bis galley between two of 
the largest ; and then, just as he reached them, he 
gave the word of command. In an instant several 
hundred men sprang to the port side of the galley, 
and bore it down deep in the water ; at the same 
instant all the oars on the starboard side were 
raised high, and formed a palisade through which 
the Turks on the ship on that side could not pass. 
At the same time, the Turkish galley on the port 
side, which had drawn up close so as to board, was 
secured with grappling-irons, and the Christians 
flung themselves aboard of her. They freed the 
Christian rowers, and armed them. The struggle 
was fierce, but the Turks were altogether outnum- 
bered, and threw down their arms. 

Meanwhile the starboard Turkish ship, bewil- 
dered by this unheard-of manoeuvre, tried to board 
Soranzo’s galley, and drew in closer, just as the 
men were assailing the ship on the port side. The 
sudden departure of such a body of men caused 
Soranzo’s galley to sink back to her former posi- 
tion, in doing which, the oars of the starboard gal- 
ley were drawn down under her bottom, and all 
entangled and broken, while Soranzo’s oars came 
down upon the heads of the Turks on her* deck, 
filling them with confusion. 

At this instant, Soranzo, with a shout, led the 
remainder of his men into the midst of the disor- 
dered Turks in 'the starboard galley. He was fol- 
lowed by crowds of the freed Christian rowers 


80 


THE WINGED LION. 


from the port galley. . The Turks fought fiercely, 
but the Christians fought with the fury of tigers. 
The burning words of Soranzo rang in their ears, 
and stirred them to madness. They were fighting, 
not for life or liberty, but for revenge. They had 
been made captive, and exiled. They had been 
subjected to mockery, and blows, and insults, from 
wretched barbarians whom they despised ; now 
was the hour for vengeance, when they could make 
a fit return for all that they had suffered. Again 
the Christian rowers in this galley were freed, and 
lent their aid in the strife. The Turks were every- 
where outnumbered, yet still resisted, and rallied 
round the poop, where their commander, a huge 
Moor, cimeter in hand, hurled defiance at his ene- 
mies. 

Towards this man Soranzo forced his way at the 
head of his bravest followers. As he came within 
reach, the huge Moor raised his cimeter. The next 
instant it descended like a flash ; but Soranzo was 
a master of fence, and as the weapon fell it struck 
his uplifted rapier, and glided aside harmless, while, 
in a moment after, that rapier had pierced the heart 
of the Moor through and through. 

At the fall of the Moor a cry of despair escaped 
the Turks. They threw down their arms. The 
Christians stopped in their career of victory. It 
was Soranzo’s stern command. 

“ Kill no more ! ” he cried. “ Put these prisoners 
at the oars. We want them all, for we must cut 


TRIUMPH OF SORANZO. 


81 


our way through other Turkish fleets before we 
reach home.” 

Meanwhile the other galley had been engaged in 
a fierce fight. But Soranzo’s tactics had given the 
Christians the advantage. They had flung them- 
selves on board the Turk, and had at once set free 
and armed the Christian rowers. The fight was on 
the deck of the Turkish galley, and was kept up 
obstinately until the fall of the Moor. Then these 
men, seeing the surrender of the others, likewise 
flung down their arms. The prisoners were now 
put at the oars, and the victorious Christians pre- 
pared to resume their voyage. 

Upon looking around, Soranzo discovered, to his 
amazement, that the largest vessel was the very 
one which had been commanded by Malapieri. It 
had been captured at Negropont. From this, So- 
ranzo, for the first time, knew that his enemy must 
have met with disaster. This discovery made his 
triumph seem all the sweeter. 

And now the vestiges of the conflict were all 
effaced. Turks replaced Christians at the oars, 
while at the mast-head of the largest galley floated 
a Venetian flag, which Soranzo found on board. 
Expecting other fights, he kept in constant prepa- 
ration, but his anticipations were not fulfilled. No 
more enemies appeared ; and at length, far away on 
the northern horizon, the rejoicing Christians saw 
the lofty tower of St. Mark’s. 

Soranzo’s fleet arrived at a time when no one 

6 


82 


THE WINGED LION. 


was expecting anything. There were marks of 
triumph, too, about the new comers which riveted 
the gaze of all. High in air floated the proud Lion 
of St. Mark’s, with streamers dancing all around in 
the freeze, while from the stern of all the ships 
were trailed the Crescent flags of the Turks. Some 
of the ships had a Venetian look, others were evi- 
dently Turkish ; yet these all formed part of some 
triumph which the Lion of St. Mark had won — a 
triumph most wonderful, most unaccountable, yet 
most sweet, since it came upon the heels of so many 
disasters. As the fleet drew nearer, it seemed as 
though the whole population had gone forth in 
boats. The water was covered with them. Those 
who first reached the galleys heard the news, and 
from them it passed to others, amplified and en- 
larged with the usual exaggerations. A great 
Turkish fleet had been destroyed ; five thousand 
Christians had been freed ; such were some of the 
rumors ; yet among all, there was one name which 
was upon the lips of all, a name about which there 
could be no mistake ; a name once illustrious in 
Venetian history, but never before associated with 
so splendid an achievement as this — the name of 
Soranzo ! 

Soranzo came back, and all Venice had already 
known how he had gone away. He had been dis- 
honored by Malapieri — by that Malapieri who had 
delivered him up as a captive to the Turk, who 
had fled in terror from pursuers, who had lost a 


SORANZO AT ST. MARK’S. 


83 


gallant fleet, and sacrificed the lives of a valiant 
host for nought. And here was his victim ! With 
a great fleet the base Malapieri could do nothing ; 
but Soranzo, out of his own valor, had won a new 
fleet for Venice ! 

Thus Soranzo came back with his name on the 
lips and in the hearts of all. It was a triumphant 
entry. As he landed at St. Mark’s, it was with 
difficulty that his boat could reach the shore. On 
the Piazza it was with greater difficulty that he 
could pass. Parents saw in him the savior of their 
children ; the hero who had snatched from captivity 
so many gallant souls ; all saw in him one who was 
the savior of the state. He was overwhelmed by 
the throng. The air was rent with acclamations. 
The gallant band that followed him were beset and 
eagerly questioned ; and many, overcome with 
emotion, fell upon their knees, and tried to kiss the 
hand of Soranzo. At last he succeeded in working 
his way through the crowd, and reached the Ducal 
Palace. Here, at the head of the Giant’s Stairs, 
stood the doge, who had come forth to see with his 
own eyes the hero of this amazing and unexpected 
exploit, and also to exhibit the sympathy of the 
government with this outburst of patriotic emo- 
tion. To him Soranzo made his report, and handed 
over to him the jewelled turban and the cimeter 
of Noureddin — the Turkish Capitan Pasha — the 
terror of the iEgean Sea. 

On that day there were two men who did not 
share the general joy. 


84 


THE WINGED LION. 


One was Malapieri. At the return of Soranzo 
in such a way his black and cruel heart quailed 
with terror. No one knew so well as he the extent 
of his own perfidy. Conscience made him cow- 
ardly. What if Soranzo, this popular hero, should 
now denounce him ! His own ears had heard words 
of terror. The populace who cheered for Soranzo 
also hurled imprecations at the name of Malapieri. 
Against Soranzo poor and friendless it would have 
been easy to struggle ; but how could he hope to 
contend with Soranzo the hero — and popular idol ! 
He looked far ahead. He judged of Soranzo by 
himself, and saw himself the victim of a vengeful 
enemy. It seemed as if all was lost. His only 
safety lay in immediate flight. He did not linger, 
but the very day that saw the triumph of Soranzo 
saw the flight of Malapieri into an exile that ter- 
minated only with death. 

The other uneasy spirit was Polani. He had 
never injured Soranzo. He had only despised him 
and slighted him. He had also sought to draw Bi- 
anca from him. He now feared lest Soranzo might 
feel vengeful, and could only hope that he would 
spare him for Bianca’s sake. He determined to see 
him at once in the hour of his triumph, to offer his 
congratulations, and to try whether his love for Bi- 
anca had changed. As for Malapieri, he understood 
well that the sun of that noble had set forever. 

Thus the old Polani stood at the foot of the Gi- 
ant’s Stairs, waiting for an opportunity to speak to 


JOY OF BIANCA. 


85 


Soranzo. At length the yonng man came forth, 
and descended the steps. He saw Polani at once, 
and with a flush of eager joy hurried towards him. 

“ Bianca ! ” he said. 

The old man had been on the point of beginning 
a solemn congratulation, but he was shrewd enough 
to see that there was a far pleasanter subject. No 
— he had not forgotten — that eager look, those 
tremulous tones, showed that the stout heart which 
never quailed in battle was all quivering with anx- 
ious emotion at the thought of Bianca. 

“ She’s well,” said Polani, as he grasped Soran- 
zo’s hand in both of his. “ She has been anxious 
about you. She saw your ships, and heard your 
name shouted out by the whole city. She has been 
waiting ever since to catch a glimpse of you.” 

All this was mere guess-work, yet it was per- 
fectly true. Polani had conjectured well, and 
knew exactly what effect this would have on Bi- 
anca. 

u Will you allow me to offer you my poor hospi- 
tality ? ” he continued ; “ we should like to hear how 
you escaped — and Bianca.” 

Soranzo pressed his hand fervently, and said not 
a word. Polani understood him, and they both 
turned to go. 

It took about an hour to get through the crowd 
of men and boats, but at length they reached the 
Palazzo Polani. 

It was all true. Bianca had heard all. In an 


86 


THE WINGED LION. 


instant she had started up from her couch, where 
she had lain down to die of a broken heart, and 
had come back to vigorous life, and bounding hope, 
and exultant joy. 

“ He will be here ! ” she said to her mother. 
11 He will be here ! He is coming to me at last ! ” 

And she was right. She knew her father’s na- 
ture, and she knew Soranzo’s love. As for Soranzo, 
the triumph of that day had all been as nothing 
compared with the deep, unutterable bliss which 
he felt as he entered the Palazzo Polani, and caught 
Bianca in his arms. 


POOR UNCLE MOSES. 


87 


CHAPTER YI. 



Poor Old Uncle Moses. — Deep Anxiety. — Pursuit of the 
Fugitives. — Bologna. — Ferrara. — Padua. — The Track 
lost. — Heroic Resolve of Uncle Moses. — On to Venice. 

ET us now return to Uncle Moses and his 
doings. After taking leave of Clive and 
David, the unhappy uncle looked as though 
he had lost all that he most loved on earth. He 
returned to the hotel. Frank and Bob were away, 
intent upon their own amusements, and nothing 
was left for Uncle Moses but to brood over the 
troubles of his too anxious heart. Bitterly he re- 
gretted that he had given his consent to this sepa- 
ration. How could he know what might befall 
them ? Away among strangers in a foreign land, 
without an uncle’s care, it seemed to him that they 
were exposed to the most frightful perils. That 
they had a talent for getting into difficulties he 
knew but too well ; and though thus far they had 
always got out of them again without harm, yet 
he had no assurance that this would always be so. 
Indeed, his fears all led him to expect the oppo- 
site, and to think that while David and Clive 
would still have their ill luck in falling into dan- 


88 


THE WINGED LION. 


ger, they would lose their good luck in getting 
out. 

When Frank and Bob returned, they were 
shocked to see the condition into which their 
beloved and revered relative had worked him- 
self. He seemed utterly prostrated, and was so 
ill able to rouse himself that he could scarcely 
speak. At first they thought that he was ill, but 
they soon found that it was the mind that was af- 
fected, and not the body. Now, the departure of 
Clive and David had not made the smallest differ- 
ence to Frank and Bob. They were usually ac- 
customed to run in couples, and going to Bologna 
seemed no more to them than going to the other 
side of the Arno. But the anxiety and the deep 
distress of Uncle Moses was too serious a thing to 
be disregarded, and they perceived at once that 
they must sacrifice all their own tastes and plans 
to his comfort. 

It was not long before Uncle Moses told them 
his whole mind. He told them that he could not 
endure another day of such anxiety as this ; that 
he was anxious to go after Clive and David ; to be 
with them, and have th4m all under his own eye ; 
as for themselves, they could enjoy themselves 
quite as well in Bologna as in Florence ; and that 
they must get ready to go on the following morn- 
ing. This announcement, which was made with 
unusual decision, was received by the two with- 
out a word of objection. 


UNCLE MOSES’ ANXIETY. 


89 


“ Certainly/’ said Frank. “ It don’t matter much 
to us, Uncle Mo. If you wish it, we shall be quite 
willing. At the same time you mustn’t allow your- 
self to fret and worry so much about nothing. 
Why, if this goes on, you’ll not be able to travel, 
and one of us will have to go and bring them 
back.” 

“ Heaven forbid ! ” said Uncle Moses. “ Don’t 
you hint at sich a thing. Only you let me get to 
Bolony, an’ you ain’t going to catch me lettin’ any 
of you out o’ my sight agin.” 

The prospect of going on to Bologna and rejoin- 
ing the lost boys was so grateful to Uncle Moses, 
that it rapidly restored him to something like his 
usual cheerfulness. He had been brooding all day 
long over his troubles, and now that he had made 
a clean breast of it, he felt unspeakably relieved. 
As for Frank and Bob, they felt quite rejoiced at 
the change in him, and comforted him with their 
assurances that they would meet Clive and David 
without fail. 

“ Unless, indeed,” said Frank, u they have got 
so disgusted with Bologna as to come back here.” 

“ That’s an important idee,” said Uncle Moses. 
u They might feel as bad as I did, and might be 
cornin’ back just as we were goin’ on. I think I’d 
best write a short note of explanation, in case they 
should come back.” 

This gave Uncle Moses something to do, and he 
proceeded to write a letter explaining his depart- 


90 


THE WINGED LION. 


■ure, which he left with the concierge, to be given 
to Clive and David in the event of their return. 

Now, there had been no very definite arrange- 
ment as to time. The boys had specified two or 
three days. Afterwards, as we know, they had 
acted on the supposition of an allowance of three 
days, and with this understanding they wrote 
their letter from Padua. As for Uncle Moses, he 
had not thought of any very definite time, and to 
leave on the next day did not seem to him likely 
to disarrange any plans whatever. Accordingly, 
on the very day after the momentous separation, 
Uncle Moses, Frank, and Bob started from Flor- 
ence, without the slightest doubt that they would 
find David and Clive at Bologna. Before the boys 
had left, they had chosen from Murray’s Hand- 
book a certain hotel from among those that were 
specified therein ; and it was to this that Uncle 
Moses at once went. Bologna looked as gloomy 
to these as it did to the others ; and the drizzling 
rain, and the cloudy sky, and the general gloom 
still continued. As they drove to the hotel, Frank 
and Bob thought of sunny Florence, and groaned. 
At length they reached their destination, and hur- 
rying in, they looked about eagerly, half expecting 
to find the objects of their search. They were dis- 
appointed, however, and then they proceeded to 
make inquiries about them. 

The reply which they received was one that 
filled the questioners with amazement, and gave a 
dreadful shock to the anxious Uncle Moses. 


THE LANDLORD. 


91 


u 0, dey af gone,” said the landlord, who was 
able to ‘ spik Ingelis ; 7 11 dey af gone, yesteda.” 

u Gone ! 77 cried Frank. 11 Wliere ? 77 

He half expected to hear that they had gone 
back to Florence in disgust. 

“ To Ferrara/ 7 said the landlord. 

“ Ferrara ! 77 cried Frank ; and he gave a low 
whistle. 

“ 0, dey will come back/ 7 said the landlord ; 
u dey say so ; dey will come back. 77 

u 0, they’ll come back — will they? 77 said Frank. 
“ When ? To-day ? 77 

“ 0, yes, to-day, certamente, 77 said the landlord ; 
u dey say so. 77 

This, at least, was some consolation. 

“ 0, it’s all right, 77 said Frank, in a careless and 
confident tone, trying to cheer the wretched Uncle 
Moses. 11 You see, Uncle Mo, they couldn’t stand 
Bologna, and no wonder. It’s a horrible hole ; so 
they’ve gone on to Ferrara ; quite right, too ; but 
Ferrara’s only a few miles off, and I dare say they’ll 
be back this evening. Now, don’t you fret, or worry, 
or bother about it in the least. They’ll be back 
this evening all right. So cheer up, and don’t 
bother.” 

Uncle Moses tried to cheer up, but with little 
success. Frank’s words, however, gave him some 
hope, and with this he endeavored to sustain him- 
self. But the task was hard, and the time between 
this and evening seemed long indeed. Upon fur- 


92 


THE WINGED LION. 


ther inquiry they learned that the evening train 
from Ferrara would arrive at seven o’clock, at 
which time all would be decided. 

“ We must wait till then/-’ said Uncle Moses, 
sadly, 11 though I’d much rayther go right straight 
off to Ferrary ; but bein’ as thar’s a chance of their 
cornin’ back, why, I suppose we’d best wait.” 

11 But don’t look so heart-broken, Uncle Moses,” 
said Frank. u Do, for pity’s sake, try to cheer up.” 

11 0, don’t mind me,” said Uncle Moses ; “ don’t 
you mind me. You jest go off an’ see the town, 
an’ I’ll stay in my room an’ lay down, an’ p’aps I’ll 
get a little sleep.” 

“ Yes, do,” said Frank, eagerly. “ Try to sleep. 
I don’t believe you slept a wink all last night.” 

They were now shown to their rooms, and the 
boys, leaving Uncle Moses here, went out to see 
the city, and did not return till evening. Their 
opinion was the same as that which had been 
formed by Clive and David. 

“ It’s a dull place,” said Frank, u and I don’t 
wonder they went to Ferrara, only I hope, for 
poor Uncle Mo’s sake, that they’ll be back to- 
night.” 

The train came in at the appointed time, and 
Frank and Bob were at the station to receive the 
returning wanderers. To their disappointment, 
however, they saw nothing of them, and when 
they returned, Uncle Moses read their feelings 
on their faces. He said not a word, but stood 
trembling and frightened. 


FERRARA, PADUA. 


93 


“ 0, come now/’ said Frank, cheerfully, “ don’t 
be so agitated, Uncle Mo. The boys are all right. 
It’s impossible that any harm can have come to 
them. They thought that they had two or three 
days to themselves, you see, and Bologna’s so dull 
that they’ll not come back here till the last mo- 
ment. They’ll be back some time to-morrow.” 

“ Some time to-morrow ! ” said Uncle Moses. 
u Wal, I can’t set down here and wait. I must go 
on, too, and meet them at Ferrary. And I’ll leave 
a letter for them here, same as I did at Florence.” 

Uncle Moses was very much agitated, and did 
not say a great deal, but it was evident that he 
was busy with anxious thoughts. He wrote an- 
other letter here, which he deposited with the 
landlord, to be given to the boys in the event 
of their return, and then seemed to feel a little 
calmer. 

Early on the following morning they left for 
Ferrara. On arriving at this place, they went first 
to the chief hotel, supposing that the boys would 
be more likely to have lodged here than anywhere 
else. Here they found their suppositions correct, 
for the familiar names were there on the book of 
visitors. But they were destined, nevertheless, to 
fresh disappointment. They were informed that 
the boys had remained but a few hours, and had 
gone on to Padua. They had left no word as to 
their return, or as to any further movements. 

This information was a fresh blow to Uncle 


94 


THE WINGED LION. 


Moses, and even Frank and Bob thought the sit- 
uation serious. It was not at all like Clive and 
David. They were generally quiet, and not over- 
fond of adventures. Why they should now be trans- 
formed into lawless vagabonds was a mystery. 

Frank saw, however, that Uncle Moses required 
all his care, for it seemed as though the aged man 
would sink under this new disappointment. 

“ I see how it is,” said he, cheerfully. “ They’ve 
gone all about Ferrara, and have concluded to visit 
Padua also before returning to Bologna. They 
could not have spent more than two hours here. 
I dare say they are now in Padua. But of course 
they’ll be back in Bologna in time to meet us.” 

“ But what can I do ? ” wailed Uncle Moses. 
“ How can I ever see them again ? ” 

“ Well,” said Frank, “ it seems to me that our 
best plan will be to go back to Bologna, and wait 
there for them to return.” 

Uncle Moses groaned. 

u I feel,” said he, “ jest as if them two had got a 
start, and were agoin’ off never to return. I feel 
as if my only chance is to, folly them as fast as I 
can, and catch up to them if possible. And so I 
don’t seem to care about goin’ back. My only idee 
is, to go for’ard and catch them before they’re lost.” 

u When will you go ? ” 

u Wh3 T , as soon as possible. You find out when 
the next train is goin’ to start for Padua.” 

“ The next train ? Why, that leaves at two 
o’clock. I saw the time-table in the office.” 


PERPLEXITY OF UNCLE MOSES. 


95 


“ Two o’clock : very well,” said Uncle Moses ; 
“ then we’ll go on to Padua by that train.” 

“ But suppose the boys go back to Bologna, 
when we’re going to Padua.” 

“ Wal, we can try Padua first,” said Uncle 
Moses, 11 an’ then, if we find they’ve gone back, 
we can go back, too. They’ll get my letter at 
Bolony. I told them to wait at Bolony at all haz- 
ards, an’ not to stir a step till we come back. An’ 
so they’ll stay there. At the same time, if we find 
them at Padua, it’ll be so much the better.” 

This decision was not at all disagreeable to Frank 
and Bob. They had several hours to wait in Fer- 
rara, and these they spent in going about the town. 
They were not fond of ruins, or of churches, or of 
museums ; they were not poetical or romantic, like 
David and Clive ; nor did they care for old associa- 
tions, or historic names. The result was, that Fer- 
rara seemed duller to them than it had been to 
David and Clive, and they both voted it a slow 
place. 

11 It’s quite evident why they went on to Padua,” 
said Frank. 

11 Yes,” said Bob ; u they did quite right ; but I 
say, Frank, isn’t it odd to think of solemn old 
David and quiet Clive running such a rig as this ? 
If we had done it, why, it would have seemed 
natural.” 

“ Well,” said Frank, “ I don’t think I should have 
done it. At any rate, I should have telegraphed 


96 


THE WINGED LION. 


to Uncle Moses at Florence, or, at least, I should 
have written. It’s very careless in them. Of 
course they’re all right, and they’ll turn up some- 
where ; but meanwhile poor old Uncle Mo’s fretting 
himself into a fever. Bother take them, I say.” 

At two o’clock they left Ferrara, and in a short 
time arrived at Padua. Here, as before, they went 
to the chief hotel in the city, and once more re- 
gained the track of the wanderers. But here, as 
before, they found that the wanderers had gone, 
and that this time they had proceeded to Venice. 

At this information poor old Uncle Moses seemed 
utterly crushed, and even Frank and Bob felt some- 
thing like consternation. Thus far they had felt 
as though their uncle’s anxiety was quite unneces- 
sary, since at all events the boys would certainly 
come back to Bologna ; but this last act put the 
whole matter upon quite a different footing. At 
Bologna they had known where to go ; at Ferrara 
and Padua their course had been easy, namely, to 
go to the principal hotel ; but what could they do 
now ? Venice had many hotels, from among which 
it was difficult to choose any one that seemed likely 
to be the abode of the fugitives. In addition to 
this, it was incomprehensible how David and Clive 
could ever have thought of going off in this fash- 
ion. There was no letter for them. The landlord 
knew nothing about their intended movements. 
The boys had plunged into utter obscurity. Uncle 
Moses was heart-broken, and Frank did not know 


PURSUIT OF THE FUGITIVES. 


97 


how to console him. They had shown an utter 
recklessness, and at the same time a heartlessness 
which filled Frank with amazement, and added to 
the difficulty of the case. 

Still it was necessary to decide upon some course 
of action. Uncle Moses seemed quite distracted 
with anxiety and terror, so that Frank had now to 
make all the plans for the future. 

“ I think,” said he, “ that our only course is to go 
on to Venice.” 

“ What can we do in Venice ? ” said Uncle Moses, 
in a hollow voice. 

“ Do ? ” said Frank. u Why, we can hunt up 
Dave and Clive.” 

“ It’s like hunting for a needle in a haystack,” 
said Bob. 

Uncle Moses groaned. 

11 0, there needn’t be any difficulty. We can get 
the police to hunt them up.” 

“ The police ! ” said Uncle Moses, in a voice of 
horror. “ The police ! ” 

“ Certainly,” said Frank. “ Why not? I’ve heard 
that the police at Venice are a very efficient body 
of men.” 

“ So have I,” groaned Uncle Moses. “ That’s 
jest what I’ve heerd all my life. The police at 
Venice. Why, Venice is a vast police station. 
It’s filled with spies, an’ bravos, an’ assassins. 
Why, I mind readin’ about it when I was a boy 
at school. The first novel I ever read was Abel- 
7 


98 


THE WINGED LION. 


lino, the Bravo of Venice. And I’ve heerd about 
the dungeons thar, an’ the terrible courts, an’ the 
torments they make use of. 0, I know all about 
it. Why, the Inquisition at Venice is the most 
horrible thing on airth. The idee of it used to 
keep me awake at night. It’s like Fox’s Book of 
Martyrs, or the Valley of the Shadow of Death. 
To go thar is like goin’ straight into the jaws of 
Death.” 

“ 0, nonsense ! ” said Frank. “ That is all old 
stuff. It might have been so in the middle ages, 
but Venice now is a quiet, easy-going city, as safe 
as Boston — part of the kingdom of Italy. At any 
rate, we’ve got to go.” 

“Well,” said Uncle Moses, heroically, “we’ve 
got to go, an’ for my part, I’d go after them boys, 
to save them, if it was into the dungeons of the 
Inquisition themselves. Yes,” he added, “ if I had 
to lie on the rack, or be tried by the Council of 
Ten, or be broken on the wheel, or burnt at the 
stake.” 

And so, while Clive and David were enjoying 
themselves hugely with their new friends at 
Venice, poor old Uncle Moses was overwhelmed 
with anxiety and terror at Padua. 


THE PARTY IN VENICE. 


99 


CHAPTER YIL 



The Pleasant Party in Venice. — How to find a Missing 
Relative. — The Story of the beheaded Doge . 

ET us now return to the pleasant party in 
/^i] Venice. 

On the next morning Vernon called on the 
Bureau of Police to see what had been done about 
Miss Lee. He learned that nothing had been done 
thus far, but that a messenger was about to start 
for Verona in an hour. This news he brought back 
to Gracie, who was very anxious to know whether 
anything had been heard. 

She looked disappointed. 

“ I hoped,” she said, with a little sigh , 11 that they 
might have telegraphed. Poor auntie will be in 
despair. And did they try to find whether she was 
in Venice or not ? ” 

“ 0, yes. She is not here. She is, no doubt, in 
Verona, and will wait there till she hears about 
you. I dare say she will get the police to hunt 
you up and take you prisoner.” 

“ And do you think, Mr. Vernon,” asked Gracie, 
“ that there is any chance of my hearing anything 
of her to-day ? ” 


L. of C. 


100 


THE WINGED LION. 


Vernon shook his head. 

“ I’m afraid not/' said he. “ The messenger will 
go to-day. He will hardly be able to find her in 
time to come back by the evening train. Still, it 
is possible, no doubt. But the best way is to allow 
ample time, and not to be impatient. Now, I do 
not see how the messenger can get back before to- 
morrow. And, besides, your aunt may refuse to 
come with him.” 

“ Refuse ! How could she ? ” 

“ 0, I was merely thinking that she might be 
terrified at the idea of going with a policeman, es- 
pecially to Venice. Venice has a bad name in 
those matters.” 

“ Auntie’s awfully timid,” said Gracie. “ At any 
rate she’ll write, and I’ll fly back to her.” 

“ If I could only persuade your aunt to stay in 
Verona a little longer,” said Vernon, “I would 
make a pilgrimage there, and get her consent — ” 

Gracie looked at him inquiringly ; then her eyes 
fell. 

“ Why ? ” she said, in a little whisper. 

“Why? Because we cannot bear to have our 
little circle broken up so soon, before we have be- 
gun to see Venice, too; and if you were to leave 
us now, why, you see, all our plans would be spoiled, 
and if I could only know that your aunt was safe, 
and if you, too, felt at ease about her, I should 
rather like the police to terrify her.” 

“ I’m sure that’s very unkind,” said Gracie. 


f 


THE MISSING RELATIVE. 101 

“I know it is,” said Yernon, in a tone of pro- 
found compunction ; u but it arises from my own 
wicked heart.” 

Gracie smiled at this, with a pretty air of con- 
fusion. 

u At any rate,” said she, “ I shall hear from 
auntie to-morrow.” 

“ O, yes, or the day after ; and Clive here and 
Davie will hear, too, no doubt. By the by, boys, 
what address did you give your uncle ? ” 

“ Poste Restante,” said David. 

“ 0, so you did not mention the Hotel Zeno.” 

“ No,” said David, “ I did not feel certain about 
staying here, and thought 1 Poste Restante ’ would 
be the safest and most convenient address.” 

11 But suppose he comes on himself, how will he 
find you ? ” 

11 0, he won’t come on,” said Clive ; u he’ll write 
first, of course. Besides, Frank and Bob will be 
delighted to hear what we have done, and will 
tease Uncle Moses to spend another week in Flor- 
ence. You know they’re crazy about Florence.” 

“ 0, well,” said Yernon, u that’s all the better. I 
only wish Miss Lee could feel as comfortable about 
her aunt. However, we have this day before us, 
and I’ve been making a plan of action. How would 
you like to see the city ? and what do you say to 
visiting the Doge’s Palace ? ” 

“ I have no choice,” said Gracie. u I don’t know 
anything about Yenice, and shall be happy to go 
wherever you take me.” 


102 


THE WINGED LION. 


In a short time they set forth in a gondola, and 
went to the Piazza of St. Mark. Here they landed. 

The Doge’s Palace is a large edifice which ex- 
tends from the Grand Canal to the Cathedral of St. 
Mark, overlooking the Piazza and the landing-place, 
or Piazzetta. The front is adorned with rows of col- 
umns and arches, which give it a Byzantine appear- 
ance. The entrance looks out upon the Piazza of 
St. Mark, and is approached by a noble stairway, 
known as the “ Giant’s Stairs.” At the head of 
these are certain orifices representing the mouths 
of lions. These are the terrible “ lions’ mouths ” 
into which secret accusations were once dropped. 
The “lions’ mouths ” and the “giant’s stairs” figure 
largely in the legends and the history of Venice. 

Here Vernon led his companions, and pointed 
out to them these things just mentioned. After 
this they entered the Palace, traversed the grand 
hall, and came to the Council Chamber. Here they 
saw magnificent paintings, and conspicuous among 
them the largest oil painting in the world — the 
work of Tintoretto. Then they visited many other 
apartments, including the Senate Chamber, and the 
Rooms of Audience. All these were magnificently 
furnished and adorned with paintings. 

In one of these rooms they sat down. An open 
window commanded a fine view of the Piazza, with 
the lofty tower of St. Mark. 

“Do you see the Giant’s Stairs below,” asked 
Vernon. 


MARINO FALIERO. 


103 


“ v Yes, ?> said Grade. 

“I intend to be your guide, philosopher, and 
friend,” said Vernon, “and so 1 must tell you all 
about the places of importance that we meet. Did 
you ever hear of Marino Faliero ? ” 

u 0, yes,” said Gracie. “ I’ve read Byron’s play.” 
“It’s all the same,” said Vernon. “I’ll tell you 
the story. I’ve brought it, all written out, and if 
you care to hear it I will read it. Shall I ? or will 
it be too much of a bore ? ” 

“ 0, read it, by all means.” 

Upon this Vernon drew forth some papers, and 
began to read 


The Story of Martno Faliero. 

The formation of the Council of Ten had the 
effect of diminishing the power of the other parts 
of the government. In particular the office of 
chief magistrate had been affected by it, and the 
Doge of Venice at length became little more than 
a mere name. 

It was about forty years after the establish- 
ment of the Council of Ten that Marino Faliero 
was elected doge. He was one of the most distin- 
guished citizens of Venice, sprung from one of the 
noblest families, and with a name rendered illus- 
trious by glorious achievements in Avar, and skilful 
administration of civil affairs. 

The ducal dignity, which had appeared so bril- 
liant an object of ambition, was no sooner attained, 


104 


THE WINGED LION. 


than Marino Faliero found it nothing better than a 
splendid mockery. In most of the affairs of state 
he was allowed to do nothing whatever. He was 
subjected to the most galling control, not only in 
public matters, but even in those things which 
pertained to his private affairs. To add to all, 
spies were set around him, and he found that the 
position of first citizen of Venice was only that of a 
state prisoner. 

Accustomed all his life to command ; possessed of 
great self-reliance and resolution ; animated, also, 
by honorable pride and ambition, Marino Faliero no 
sooner found out the truth of this position than he 
sought for some remedy. Circumstances hastened 
his search. Not only was he harassed by the es- 
pionage and restraint of the Council of Ten, but he 
also found that he was actually exposed to insult. 
On one occasion this insult was more bitter than 
usual, since it was aimed not at himself, but at his 
wife. The offence could not be overlooked. Una- 
ble to punish the offender himself, he denounced 
him to the Council. The result was, that the Coun- 
cil punished the accused by a sentence of impris- 
onment for two months, to be followed by banish- 
ment for one year. To the doge this punishment 
appeared so inadequate to the offence that he re- 
garded it almost as an indorsement by the Council 
of the insult. His haughty spirit could not endure 
it any longer, and he now looked about for means 
to avenge himself. 


MARINO FALIERO. 


105 


The opportunity soon presented itself. On the 
day after the sentence a high noble came to him to 
seek reparation for a blow which he had received 
from another noble. “ What can I do for you,” said 
Faliero ; u think of the shameful insult that has been 
offered me, and the way in which they have pun- 
ished that ribald who wrote it ; and see how the 
Council respect my person.” Upon this, the other 
said, eagerly, u My Lord Doge, if you wish to make 
yourself a real prince, and destroy all these your 
enemies, I have the courage, if you will help me, to 
make you chief of the whole state, and then you 
can punish all of them.” 

Faliero at once fell in with the proposal, and 
soon a conspiracy was organized. His nephew, 
Bertucci, and Calendaro, a distinguished naval 
commander, who had formerly served under Fa- 
liero, were sent for to take part in the plot. Six 
others were taken into the affair, and for many 
nights in succession the scheme was discussed in 
the Ducal Palace, until at length the whole was 
decided. It was arranged that sixteen or seven- 
teen leaders should be posted in various parts of 
the city, each at the head of forty armed men, who, 
however, were not to know their destination. On 
the appointed day they were to raise riots among 
themselves in order that the doge might have a 
pretence for tolling the bell of St. Mark. At the 
sound of the bell the whole band was to gather at 
St. Mark’s, and when the citizens should come to 


106 


THE WINGED LION. 


know the cause of the alarm, the conspirators were 
to fall upon them and cut them to pieces. After 
this Faliero was to be proclaimed Lord of Venice. 
The day appointed for the rising was the 15th of 
April, 1355 ; and so profound was the secrecy 
which was maintained that no one dreamed of the 
existence of the conspiracy. 

But on the evening before the appointed day, 
one of the conspirators, being anxious to save a 
dear friend from danger, went to see him and ear- 
nestly entreated him to remain at home on the mor- 
row. The friend, astonished at the singular request, 
began to make inquiries of his visitor, and though 
the latter at first tried to maintain secrecy, yet at 
length he told all. The friend was filled with hor- 
ror ; he at once arrested his informant, and then, 
having secured him, he hurried forth to inform 
the magistrates. These immediately procured the 
arrest of all the members of the conspiracy, who 
were captured at their own houses. Guards were 
then placed at the arsenal, and distributed through 
the city. For these the punishment Avas plain and 
easy, but with the doge it would be more difficult 
to deal. 

The Council of Ten, therefore, demanded the 
assistance of twenty nobles, who were to advise, but 
not to vote. They then sent for the doge, who had 
heard nothing whatever of the disclosure of the 
conspiracy, and was arrested in the midst of his 
palace, while friends, and guests, and visitors were 
all around him. 


MARINO FALIERO. 


107 


The fact of his arrest was enough. That one 
thing told him all that had occurred. On being 
brought before the dread tribunal, he said not a 
word, neither denying the charge nor seeking to 
excuse himself. He was accordingly found guilty, 
and condemned to be beheaded, the place of execu- 
tion to be the landing-place of the Giant’s Stairs, 
where the doges take their oath when they first 
enter the palace. 

When the execution was over, one of the Coun- 
cil of Ten went to the columns of the palace oppo- 
site the Piazza, and holding up the bloody sword, 
cried out, “Justice has fallen on the traitor !” and 
the gates being then opened, the people rushed in 
to see the doge who had been executed. 

“ 0, thank you very much,” said Gracie, as Ver- 
non paused. “ It brings back all Byron’s play, 
though your story presents the doge in a different 
light. But then poets have to depart a little from 
the actual facts of the case.” 

“Certainly,” said Vernon. “A poet is like an 
artist, and has often to sacrifice truth to artistic 
effect. But of course the moral is the same.” 

“ 0, yes, I dare say it is,” said Gracie. “ I take 
your word for it, especially since you put it in that 
way. I did not think of that before. There always 
seemed to me something wrong in a poet’s depart- 
ure from the truth ; but now that you call him an 
artist, and speak about the artistic effect, it seems 


108 


THE WINGED LION. 


very different indeed. And, in fact, the poet must 
do so, for it is his art that makes the difference be- 
tween poetry and prose.” 

“ Are you an artist ? ” asked Vernon. 

“ 0, no,” said Gracie ; “ I should not venture to 
call myself an artist. I can draw a little, and paint 
a little, and — ” 

“ I wish I could see some of your work,” said 
Vernon, eagerly. “ I should love to see some of 
your work. I dare say I could give you some 
hints — ” 

“ 0, I would give anything to have you give me 
some hints,” responded Gracie, with equal eager- 
ness. u There are a thousand things that I want to 
know about, and — but what’s the use ? ” she added, 
in a mournful voice, 11 when there’s poor, dear 
auntie, and — but if she were only here, and 
safe ! ” 

11 1 declare,” said Vernon, u I’ve a great mind to 
start off this afternoon by the train and hunt her 
up myself. But then — ” He stopped abruptly. 

“ 0, I should think the police would be better 
able to find her than you could be,” said Gracie. 

“ I would go at once,” said Vernon, in a low 
voice, “ but then there is a reason — ” 

“ What?” asked Gracie, innocently. 

“ Why, I don’t want to break up our little circle, 
and,” he added, in a lower voice, “ I don’t want to 
go away from you .” 


DUNGEONS OF THE INQUISITION. 


109 


CHAPTER VIII. 


The Dungeons of the Inquisition. — The Bridge of Sighs. — 
The Story of a Life-lo7ig Vengeance. 



conversation David and Clive 


) VVjdg had wandered off up and down the long 


corridor. After a time Vernon and Gracie 


came towards them, and said that they were going 
to visit the dungeons of the Inquisition. 

“ This Inquisition/ 7 said Vernon, “ isn’t the Holy 
Office of the Inquisition, of which you have heard 
so much ; it had no connection with the Roman 
Catholic church, or with religion. It was the In- 
quisition of the Venetian state, and by Inquisition 
is meant simply the criminal court. The name has 
misled many ; but though the Venetian Inquisition 
was a civil court, yet the horrors perpetrated by it 
were fully equal to any that were ever done by its 
terrible sister, the Holy Office — the Inquisition of 
Spain.” 

“ Or of Rome,” said Clive. 

u 0, no,” said Vernon ; “ the Inquisition at Rome 
was but a feeble concern compared with this one. 
But come, let us see what there is left of it. One 
look, I think, will be enough to put an end to all 
romantic regrets for the fate of Venice.” 


110 


THE WINGED LION. 


They now went on, and came to a large apart- 
ment, quite as large as the Council Chamber, and 
furnished quite as magnificently. This was the Hall 
of the Inquisition. Leaving this, they descended 
a narrow flight of stone steps, and came to a pas- 
sage-way which was lighted by a small window. 

Here Vernon stopped. 

11 Can you guess where we are ? ” he asked. 

“ No.” 

u This is the Bridge of Sighs,” he said. 

“ The Bridge of Sighs ! ” repeated the others, in 
wonder. 

“ Yes ; look out of that window, and you can see 
the canal beneath.” 

A stool was there, by standing on which they 
could see that it was so. 

After this they went on, and came into the terri- 
ble prison-house. Upon the story which was on a 
level with the bridge, they saw narrow cells, 
lighted only by a small hole in each door. These 
were dismal enough, but were the best of all. 
Taking lights, they went down a narrow stone 
stairway, and found themselves on a lower story, 
where the dungeons were smaller, and darker, and 
more repellent. But these were not the worst, for 
beneath these they found others in the lowest story 
of all. These lay beneath the level of the sea, and 
there was something in them so appalling that they 
retreated after a very short examination. There 
was a sense of horror over the visitors, and none 


THE TWO FOSCARI. 


Ill 


of them felt able to breathe freely until they had 
come back to their old station at the balcony. 

“ If you like/’ said Vernon, “ I will read you 
another story, which is associated with these horri- 
ble prisons/ 7 

11 0, do, 77 said Gracie. 

Vernon again read. 

The Story of the Two Foscart. 

The reign of the Doge Francesco Foscari ex- 
tended over thirty-five years, which had been 
marked by constant wars, during which he had 
shown unusual ability in the management of af- 
fairs. His courage, firmness, and wisdom had made 
him illustrious ; and under his rule Venice had in- 
creased in power, in territory, and in glory. Yet 
all these things could not save him from the dread 
power of the Ten ; and in his history may be found 
the most awful example of that dark and baleful 
tyranny under which Venice had sunk — a tyranny 
which pressed heavily on all classes : which sacri- 
ficed innocent men to the spite of anonymous in- 
formers, and inflicted the pangs of unspeakable 
torment on the noblest in the state, at the instiga- 
tion of personal malignity. 

Twice in the course of his reign, Foscari had 
handed in his resignation. It had been refused, 
and on the second resignation an oath was exacted 
from him that he would retain his unwelcome dig- 
nity for life. 


112 


THE WINGED LION. 


Three out of four sons were dead ; and the one 
who survived, Giacopo, was a youth of noble qual- 
ities, before whom was the prospect of a splendid 
career. He had been married to a lady of the 
illustrious house of Contarini, and the aged doge 
looked to this last surviving son for the support of 
his declining years. 

Suddenly the blow fell ; which, awful as it was, 
proved to be but the first in a series of calamities, 
the very mention of which is terrible to every 
generous heart. Giacopo was denounced to the 
Council of Ten for having received presents from 
a foreign potentate. The offence, if true, was but 
a trifling one, and was probably not true at all ; but 
before the Council of Ten accusation was enough. 
It was their fashion not to confront the accused 
with the accuser, but to examine him by torture ; 
and in this instance the unhappy youth was put on 
the rack, and submitted to the question. The 
agonized father had to be present at this scene. 
This was part of the hellish device of the miscreant 
who had accused Giacopo. He cared not whether 
the accused was condemned or acquitted. He 
counted at least on having him subjected to the 
torture, and on inflicting worse torture on the 
wretched father. And so, on the rack, the young 
man confessed to the crime ; and the father had to 
announce to him the sentence by which he was 
banished for life. Afterwards, at the special 
prayer of the doge, his wife was allowed to ac- 
company him. 


THE TWO FOSCARI. 


113 


Several years passed, and Giacopo remained 
in banishment ; when an event occurred which 
brought down a fresh calamity upon the wretched 
son and father. One of the Council of Ten was 
assassinated. On that day the servant of Giacopo 
had been seen in Venice. The Council, conscious 
of the horrible wrong which they had done, and 
suspecting vengeance from Foscari, at once re- 
called Giacopo from banishment to answer this 
new charge of treason and assassination. 

Once more the hapless son was laid upon the 
rack, and once more the wretched father had to 
preside, and see the agony of one dearer than life, 
— his only son, — innocent of the charge, tortured 
by fiends from whom he could not save him. For 
the doge was but a name, and the Council of Ten 
held all power in their hands. Nevertheless, in 
spite of the torment, Giacopo continued firm in 
the protestation of his innocence ; and the ex- 
tremest torture was unavailing to extort from him 
a single word. 

Yet, although proof was wanting, the Council 
of Ten declared him guilty, and attributed his 
silence to the effect of witchcraft and magic. 
Once more, therefore, they condemned him, and 
this time they banished him to a more remote 
place in Candia. For a while he was insane 
through his sufferings in body and mind ; and 
though his innocence was proved by the discovery 
of the real assassin, still no change was made in 
8 


114 


THE WINGED LION. 


his sentence ; and on the recovery of his reason 
he was sent to Candia. To add to it all, this time 
his wife was not allowed to accompany him. 

“ Alone in this far- distant land, the miserable 
Giacopo fell a victim to pining homesickness. 
Death seemed preferable to this, when life was 
intolerable ; and at last, in his despair, he wrote a 
letter to the Duke of Milan, entreating his inter- 
cession with the Venetian government, so that he 
might return home, even as a prisoner. 

This letter was discovered by the Venetian 
spies, and the result was, that he was brought 
home ; but it was on the charge of treasonable 
correspondence with a foreign state. This charge 
meant a fresh trial and renewed torture. 

Once more, and for a third time, the miserable 
Giacopo was subjected to the torture ; and the 
miserable father, in the hideous mockery of the du- 
cal dignity, was compelled to preside. For no less 
than thirty times was the poor victim stretched 
upon the rack ; but no torment could wring from 
him a confession of guilt. At last, all torn, bleed- 
ing, dislocated, and senseless, he was carried away. 
The doge was allowed to visit him in his cell. The 
wretched father tried to console his son, but fell 
senseless in his agony. 

All this, however, had not the slightest effect 
on the Council of Ten. Giacopo was once more 
punished by banishment, and once more he left his 
beloved home for far-distant Candia, where he died 
shortly after his arrival. 


THE TWO FOSCARI. 


115 


The miserable father, to whom death would 
have been welcome, continued to live on. He 
wms compelled to retain his dignity of doge, but 
he lived secluded, and never attended any more 
councils. His heart was broken, and there was 
nothing left for him now but to wait patiently for 
that death which could not be long delayed. 

At length a proposal was made for the deposi- 
tion of the doge. Some debate followed, and at 
length it was agreed to. So they declared the 
office of doge vacant, ordered him to quit the 
palace within three days, and added to this the 
vote of a trifling pension. 

Foscari received the announcement with calm- 
ness. He laid aside the ducal robes, and prepared 
to go. It was suggested that he should leave by 
the private stairway, but this he refused. “ No,” 
said he, “ I will descend by the same steps by which 
I mounted thirty-five years ago.” 

With these words he went forth, and, supported 
by his brother, he slowly descended the Giant’s 
Stairs. 

Five days afterwards the bell of St. Mark 
tolled to announce the election of a new doge. 
Its sounds penetrated to the ears of Foscari. it 
brought before him all his wrongs and sufferings. 
He started up in unutterable anguish at the recol- 
lection that crowded upon him ; some inarticulate 
words escaped him ; but before the peal of the bell 
had ceased, he fell down dead. 


116 


THE WINGED LION. 


It is evident that such wrongs as these of the 
two Foscari must have arisen from something 
more than the wanton exercise of tyranny on the 
part of the Council of Ten. This dread tribunal 
has crimes enough and horrors enough to answer 
for ; but in this case it has only a part of the guilt 
that arises from these cruelties. There was one 
who stood behind them, the secret mover, who, in 
all his acts, was but following the impulse of a life- 
long trust for vengeance. That one was Loredano. 

He belonged to a family which had an heredi- 
tary feud with that of the Foscari. His uncle, who 
had gained high distinction as admiral, was so hos- 
tile to Foscari, that the latter once declared that 
he should never be doge so long as Pietro Loredano 
lived. Shortly after this the admiral died sudden- 
ly, it was rumored by poison. His brother also 
died shortly after, in the same sudden way, and 
rumor also attributed this to poison. Loredano 
thus lost his father and his uncle. He believed 
that Foscari had effected their destruction in this 
way. Upon his father’s tomb he caused the in- 
scription to be placed that he had died by poison ; 
and from that time he devoted his whole life to the 
one purpose of vengeance. 

At length he found himself in authority as one 
of the Council of Ten — that supreme tribunal, be- 
fore whom the doge himself was but a weak tool. 
Here he had occasion to use the tremendous power 
which had been placed in his hands, and there was 


/ 


THE TWO FOSCARI. 


117 


not a pang that the Foscari suffered which was not 
marked by him as so much satisfaction given to his 
desire for revenge. 

Like most of the Venetian nobles, Loredano 
was engaged in commerce. When he heard of 
the death of Foscari, he took down one of his 
ledgers, and turned to a page where there was an 
entry among his list of debtors. 

“ Francesco Foscari, for the death of my father 
and uncle.” 

He took his pen, and calmly wrote on the other 
side, — 

u By his death.” 

As Vernon ended, he turned over a leaf of his 
manuscript, and showed a page which was ruled 
so as to represent the page of a merchant’s ledger, 
with entries of debit and credit, such as Loredano 
might have had before him when he balanced his 
account with Foscari. 

Q%,a?ice4CO Q^odcazi. 


118 


THE WINGED LION. 


CHAPTER IX. 


A Race thi'ee hundred Feet up into the Air. — The Story 
of the Origin of Venice. — The Story of the jealous 
A rtist. 


IIOULD you like to go to the top of the 
tower of St. Mark?” asked Vernon of 
Gracie. 

11 0, yes,” was the reply, “ very, very much. I 
should like it above all things.” 

“ But it’s a very great thing to do,” said Vernon. 
u It’s very much higher than Bunker Hill Monu- 
ment.” 

“ 0, but I’m a capital climber,” said Gracie. u I 
assure you, Mr. Vernon, I should like it above all 
things.” 

u 0, then, if that’s your state of mind, we must 
go at once,” said Vernon. 

Leaving the doge’s palace they crossed over to 
the Tower of St. Mark, which was only a short 
distance away, and began the long ascent. Dave 
and Clive dashed away, and ran a race to the top, 
while Vernon and Gracie walked more slowly. 
Vernon was determined that Gracie should not fa- 
tigue herself, and insisted that she should take his 


A RACE. 


119 


arm. This Grade positively refused to do ; but at 
length, as Vernon made such a point of it, she con- 
sented. The ascent wound round and round in a 
spiral way ; it was very gradual and very easy, yet, 
such was Vernon’s anxious solicitude about Gracie 
that he made her stop more than twenty times on 
the way up, so as to avoid all fatigue. In this way 
they went up, and reached the top long after Clive 
and David ; but Gracie was not in the least tired, 
and her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes showed 
that the ascent had been beneficial rather than 
exhaustive. 

On looking out from their lofty position, they 
beheld, on every side, a most magnificent view. 
Beneath lay Venice, the peerless city of the sea, 
with the water all around. Yet from this height 
they were not able to see many of the canals, for 
the lofty houses concealed all of them except the 
Grand Canal, and one or two others that were close 
by them. Towards the east lay the broad Adriatic, 
with a blue line along the horizon, showing the 
coast of Dalmatia ; on the west they saw the plains 
of Italy ; on the north, the mountains ; while on the 
south the sea faded away till in the distance it 
blended with the horizon. 

Perhaps the most wonderful thing of all was the 
deep silence that prevailed. All was still. There 
was no rumble from carriage- wheels, none of that 
uproar which marks every other city. It seemed 
like a city of the dead. 


120 


THE WINGED LION. 


“ Haven’t you some more stories in that manu- 
script of yours ? ” asked Gracie, after she had seen 
all that was to be seen. 

“ 0, yes,” said Vernon, “ lots of them ; but I don’t 
know which to choose. I wish to choose something 
appropriate. Let me see. It seems to me that the 
best thing to read just now is about the origin of 
Venice.” 

So Vernon went on to read 

The Origin of Venice. 

The name of Venice is derived from that of 
the Veneti, a people who lived upon the adjoining 
main land, under the Roman empire. During the 
decline of that power, they suffered much from va- 
rious invaders, until at length the approach of At- 
tila, “ the Scourge of God,” sent many of them to 
seek for refuge in some place which would be less 
liable to the ravages of hostile bands. Such a 
place they found in a cluster of ljttle islands which 
lay a few miles out at sea, at the head of the Adri- 
atic. Defended by the sea from the armies that 
ravaged Italy, they were also equally well de- 
fended from piratical ships or hostile fleets, by sand- 
banks and shoals that could only be traversed 
through channels of the most intricate character. 
This, then, was the place which the fugitive Veneti 
chose for their refuge ; and here they settled upon 
one of the largest islands, which bore the name of 
Rialto. It was on the 25th of March, 452, when 


ORIGIN OF VENICE. 


121 


this first settlement was made. Numerous bands 
of people followed, settling upon adjoining islands, 
and the little community thus began that career 
which was destined to be so splendid. Though a 
part of the Roman empire, the Yeneti governed 
themselves, and were but rarely troubled by the 
agents of the emperor. They had what was virtu- 
ally a free republic ; and thus, with the great bless- 
ings of freedom and safety, together with a good 
government, and law, and order, they were in a 
condition which, in comparison with that of other 
cities, may justly be called most enviable. 

Time passed on, and at length large numbers 
of fugitives again came out to settle upon neigh- 
boring islands. These were driven away by the 
advance of Alboin at the head of his Lombards. 
The new settlements, after a time, became con- 
nected with the old one ; and at length, in the year 
697, the necessity was felt of a regular organized 
government which should blend them all into one 
state. Twelve of the principal men were empow- 
ered to choose a ruler, and this one thus elected 
was called the Doge or Duke of Venice. 

Venice now went on increasing in population, 
extending its commerce, and developing its naval 
power. During the eighth and ninth centuries, the 
ravages of the Saracens filled all Christendom with 
terror; but Venice remained secure. More than 
this, the common danger seemed to bring forth 
more prominently the strength of this young city 


122 


THE WINGED LION. 


of the seas, to draw forth her resources, and 
strengthen her maritime power. In one great 
struggle of the Italians against the Eastern Roman 
Empire, the Venetian fleet took a prominent part, 
and gained a decisive victory ; while her next 
great victory was gained over the ruler of the new- 
risen Western Roman Empire, the mighty Charle- 
magne. In this struggle the fleet of the emperor, 
which was commanded by his son Pepin, was de- 
feated. 

In the year 809 the government was made 
stronger. By this time no less than sixty islands 
were united in the city of Venice. Her commerce 
extended far and wide ; her maritime power was 
sufficient to insure her the command of the Adri- 
atic Sea; and already the wealth and power of the 
young republic were visible in splendid edifices. 

Her power now continued to increase. Towards 
the end of the tenth century the cities of Dalmatia 
put themselves under her protection. At the end 
of the eleventh century the crusades began, and 
these mighty movements acted directly and imme- 
diately upon Venice, increasing her population, ex- 
tending her commerce, enlarging her naval power, 
and developing to an immense extent all her re- 
sources. It was during this period that she attained 
to her highest glory. She became the Queen of the 
Adriatic, the conqueror of the capital of the East, 
the chief of all the cities on earth, when — 


ORIGIN OF VENICE. 


123 


“ her daughters had their dowers 
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East 
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers. 

In purple was she robed, and of her feast 
Monarclis partook, and deemed their dignity increased. 

In youth she was all glory — a new Tyre ; 

Her very by-word sprung from victory, 

The ‘ Planter of the Lion,’ which through fire 
And blood she bore o’er subject earth and sea; 

Though making many slaves, herself still free, 

And Europe’s bulwark ’gainst the Ottomite ; 

Witness Troy’s rival, Candia! Vouch it, ye 
Immortal waves, that saw Lepanto’s fight ! 

For ye are names no time nor tyranny can blight.” 

“Thank you/’ said Gracie ; “that’s very nice. 
It isn’t tragic. It isn’t exciting. It’s simply nice. 
It’s so full of information, and all that, you know. 
But as to your quotation from Byron, I think that 
it is not so effective just now as it ought to be.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ 0, well, you know, after one has just emerged 
from the dungeons of the Inquisition, and has all 
the horror about one, why, one has no patience with 
Venice. To indulge in lamentations over her fall 
seems rather out of place. For how can one feel 
like lamenting the fall of a state which was built 
upon a system of wrong, and baseness, and hideous 
cruelty ? The names of the two Foscari are enough 
to put one out of conceit with Venice forever.” 

“To tell the truth,” said Vernon, “that is ex- 
actly my own feeling, and I have no sympathy 
whatever with Childe Harold’s lamentations over 
Venice.” 


124 


THE WINGED LION. 


“ I suppose,” said Gracie, “ we must regard all 
that as the poet’s art.” 

u You have the idea exactly,” said Yernon. “ You 
are so quick at catching hints, and so apt, that I 
long to have you for my pupil, if it were only for a 
short time ; for I know that you would make the 
most brilliant progress.” 

“ But, then, there’s poor dear auntie ! ” said 
Gracie, with a little sigh. “ 0, if she were only 
here ! or somewhere so that I could hear from her !” 

After seeing all that was to be seen, they de- 
scended. Clive and David, as before, ran a race 
down. Clive had beaten in the race up. He had 
passed David not long after starting, and thinking 
that David was close behind, had run all the way. 
The exertion was tremendous, and he had reached 
the top in such a state of exhaustion that it was 
long before he could recover his breath ; and even 
then he felt in that condition which is usually 
termed shaky. As for David, he soon gave up the 
race, and, after Clive had passed, he slackened his 
pace to a moderate walk. He was rewarded for 
this, for on the race down Clive soon gave out ; but 
David, being quite fresh, kept ahead, and reached 
the bottom long before his rival. 

As for Yernon and Gracie, they did not think of 
racing, or hurrying in any way. Yernon insisted 
again on her taking his arm, so that she might be 
saved from the fatigue of the descent ; and Gracie 
again, after a first refusal, accepted the offer. 


PICTURES. 


125 


Then they came down very leisurely, — so leisure- 
ly, in fact, that Clive and David grew tired with 
waiting for them. 

On reaching the bottom, Yernon proposed a visit 
to some picture galleries, as this would be an easy 
and pleasant way of passing the remainder of the 
day. This, of course, was an agreeable proposal, 
and they were soon seated in the gondola on their 
way to the Academy of Fine Arts. It was a noble 
edifice, superbly furnished, and filled with great 
paintings, the crown and glory of which was the 
famous “ Assumption ” of Titian. Yernon pointed 
out the peculiar qualities of this great master, and 
had many stories to tell relative to his life and 
character. 

Leaving this, they visited the Pisano and Barbe- 
rigo Palaces, and at length they came to the Palazzo 
Manfrini. This was a marble edifice of great 
beauty, containing a collection of pictures as ex- 
tensive and as excellent as that of the Academy of 
Fine Arts. The pictures represented many artists, 
and many schools of painting. Yernon showed 
them works of Titian, of Tintoretto, of Rubens, of 
Rembrandt, and many others, pointing out the dis- 
tinguishing features of each. From a few words and 
simple explanations thus made by a skilful artist in 
the presence of the pictures themselves, Gracie 
learned more than she could have gained from pro- 
longed study of mere books. 

At length they sat down by a window which 


126 


THE WINGED LION. 


looked out upon the Grand Canal, and here once 
more Vernon produced his manuscript. 

“ If you care about it,” he said, u I will read you 
a story. It’s not about statesmen, or soldiers ; 
it’s about artists.” 

The others received his proposal with much 
pleasure, and thereupon Vernon read 

The Story of Daru and Priuli. 

Daru and Priuli had been rivals in youth, but 
Priuli had distanced the other, and his superior 
genius was manifest. For this Daru could never 
forgive him ; and as Priuli went on in the full tide 
of honor and fortune, Daru never ceased to feel 
the bitterest jealousy, accompanied by a fierce 
thirst for vengeance on the man whose only offence 
had been his superior abilities. Outwardly, howev- 
er, Daru professed a warm and admiring friendship ; 
and Priuli, who was too successful to feel jealous 
himself, was slow to suspect jealousy in others. So 
he gave Daru credit for all the friendship that he 
professed, which friendship the other tried to make 
as intimate as possible. Flattery of Priuli and de- 
preciation of himself were the means which he em- 
ployed, and in this way he so won upon the other’s 
good will, that his confidence followed as a matter 
of course. And now, having gained this much, 
Daru watched every act of Priuli, in the hope that 
something would take place which might put him 
in his power. Still the task was a tedious one. 


THE JEALOUS ARTIST. 


127 


For a simple artist like Priuli, an offence against 
the laws was hardly possible. He had no vices. 
He lived frugally. He made no debts, nor did he 
ever gamble. All the ordinary ways by which 
one man may lead another to ruin were thus closed 
to Daru, who found himself compelled to trust to 
the chapter of accidents. Even the quietest and 
most innocent men, thought Daru, will often do 
things that may be distorted so as to seem like 
offences of great magnitude ; all that I need is 
patience ; something must occur at last. 

At last something did occur. A French noble 
residing at Venice had engaged Priuli to paint him 
a picture, which Priuli had finished and had taken 
to his lodgings. It happened that war suddenly 
broke out between France and Venice consequent 
upon the famous League of Cambray, and the French 
noble found himself compelled to return home. At 
the same time all his financial resources were cut 
off, owing to the war ; and for the same reason he 
found it impossible to obtain money from the bro- 
kers. In this emergency Priuli urged him to take 
the picture and send him the money at some future 
time. The French noble did so, and Priuli knew 
that the debt would be paid, as the rank and wealth 
of the debtor placed him beyond the reach of sus- 
picion. His confidence was well founded. Long 
before the time had ended which he had counted 
on as the probable duration of the debt, the money 
was sent to him. It came by a Venetian J ew, who 


128 


THE WINGED LION. 


had just returned from Milan, where he had been 
commissioned by the French noble to give the 
money to Priuli. 

All this was well known to Daru. It seemed 
to him to be the very time for which he had been 
so long waiting. Accordingly he hastened to make 
a charge against Priuli, and dropped into the dread 
“ Lion’s Mouth ” secret information that Priuli had 
received money from a foreign prince with whom 
Venice was at war. 

Such a charge was a terrible one at all times. 
The law was strict, and was watched with jealous 
vigilance. On charges of this sort some of the 
highest and haughtiest nobles in V enice had been 
arrested and tried. Fame, rank, virtue, popularity, 
all had failed to save them. All this Daru well 
knew, and he thought that in a time like this such 
a charge against a private man like Priuli would 
be certain ruin. 

This was the fearful system at Venice, that any 
man might gratify his spite by an anonymous de- 
nunciation of an enemy on any charge whatever. 
If the charge proved utterly unfounded, the pris- 
oner was set free, yet reluctantly ; for the Venetian 
government never let any one go free if they could 
possibly help it ; while, if there were any ground 
whatever for the charge, the utmost efforts were 
put forth to extort a confession from the accused, 
and those efforts were generally the effective work- 
ings of the rack, or other instruments of torture. 


THE JEALOUS ARTIST. 


129 


So, when Daru learned that Priuli had been ar- 
rested, he felt sure that the charge would be sifted 
to the bottom ; that the payment of money would 
be found out, and that in order to extort further 
confession, Priuli would undoubtedly be placed 
upon the rack. 

And after that, thought Daru, he’ll have to lie 
in some dungeon till he rots ; or, if he does get 
out, his joints will be too sore to allow him to paint 
again. 0, ho, my Priulino ! caro cimico ! how do 
you like my Lady Rack ? 

Meanwhile Priuli had been arrested, and brought 
before his judges. His explanation was frank and 
simple. He had received no money from a foreign 
power, but had merely received payment of a debt 
from a private person. He told the whole story so 
that there could not be any doubt as to its truth in 
the minds of the judges. 

Now, had Priuli been a powerful noble, with 
powerful enemies, there is no doubt that the charge 
could have been pressed most vehemently, and 
the rack would certainly have been applied. But 
Priuli was not a noble. He was a simple artist. 
He had no powerful enemies, and no one in author- 
ity felt it to be his interest to put him to the tor- 
ture. Moreover, the Venetians were always tender 
to artists ; and so, as there was no motive to con- 
demn him, he was not condemned. At the same 
time it was not in accordance with their policy to 
set any prisoner free too quickly. The Venetian 
9 


130 


THE WINGED LION. 


government lived, and moved, and had its being in 
a system of fiendish cruelty and never-ending ter- 
rorism, which was always carried out to the fullest 
possible extent. Priuli, therefore, after his exami- 
nation, was remanded to his prison. 

But the Venetian government, with its count- 
less spies, kept note of all the doings of the people. 
Seldom was it that any one was denounced without 
their finding out who the informant was. Their 
policy was to question the prisoner as to all his 
friends and associates, his business, his acts, and 
even his thoughts. From all these they could 
judge with cool and subtle penetration as to the 
motives of the information, and the name of the in- 
former. So it was in this case ; and it did not re- 
quire much acuteness to perceive that Daru was 
the enemy. 

The Venetians, moreover, were a commercial 
people, and always sought to get the greatest pos- 
sible benefit from the smallest possible outlay. It 
seemed shocking to all principles of business to let 
a man like Priuli live in idleness in a dungeon, 
when he might be so much better employed. And 
so, being in want of a picture for the Ducal Palace, 
they gave him a commission to paint one of a cer- 
tain size upon some event in Venetian history. He 
was removed to a comfortable room, where he could 
work at his ease, and everything was furnished him 
which he desired. In this way they accomplished 
many things. They retained the prisoner in his 


THE JEALOUS ARTIST. 


131 


prison, yet they made that prisoner as comfortable 
as a free man. They also utilized his genius and 
his industry in their own behalf, and by giving him 
agreeable employment prevented him from sinking 
into despondency. 

Meanwhile Daru was exulting in the complete- 
ness of his vengeance. He thought of Priuli, 
racked, tormented, prostrated in body and mind, 
no longer able to outshine him. Even if he should 
now be .freed, he thought, he can no longer have 
the mind to conceive or the hand to execute. This 
would make him the first artist in Venice, and to 
him would come all those lucrative orders which 
had formerly fallen to the lot of Priuli. With these 
thoughts he solicited from the government a com- 
mission for the execution of that very work, which, 
unknown to him, had already been intrusted to 
Priuli. He had heard that the work had been de- 
cided on, and thought that he had the best claim 
to it. 

His request was granted. At the same time 
certain conditions were imposed. Another artist, 
he was Told, had already been engaged ; but the 
government was willing to let him take it if he 
would consent to let its acceptance be subject to 
the approval of a committee which should judge 
between his work and that of the other artist. 

To this Daru gladly consented. Who the other 
artist might be did not concern him in the least. 
He supposed him to be some rising artist under the 


132 


THE WINGED LION. 


patronage of some eminent noble, who had obtained 
the work for him. But now that Priuli was gone, 
there was not one among the artists of Venice who 
could compete with himself. 

He set to work, labored diligently, and at length 
his picture was completed. It represented a scene 
from Venetian history — Carlo Zeno wounded at 
Chiozza. 

A deputation came to see it, and were lavish in 
their expressions of praise. At the same time they 
informed him that the other artist had completed 
his, and had sent it to the Ducal Palace. They 
added that it had been much admired, and cour- 
teously invited him to go with them and see it. 
Such an invitation was not to be declined, and so 
Daru went with them. As he went he felt strange 
and dismal forebodings. He wondered how it was 
that the other picture should already be at the 
palace. Had they chosen it before seeing his ? Or 
was there something beneath all this ? The sus- 
picious nature of Daru was aroused, but there was 
nothing to be done. 

On reaching the Ducal Palace he was called 
into a large upper room in the left wing. Here he 
saw a brilliant company assembled. Among them 
were the doge himself and the chief counsellors. 
But in that company he saw one form which made 
him blind to all the rest. Forgetting the rever- 
ence due to this august company, he stood rigid, 
^nd staring, with his eyes fixed upon the face of that 


THE JEALOUS ARTIST. 


133 


man whom for months he had thought of as lan- 
guishing in a drear dungeon. 

“We have given you a commission, signor / 7 said 
the doge, “ but we had previously given it to 
another, with whom you were to compete. We 
honor our Priuli so much that we have invited him 
to our own Ducal Palace to do his work undis- 
turbed. His work is finished. It is here. Come 
and see whether you think that yours is equal to 
this. 7 ’ 

Trembling and distracted with conflicting emo- 
tions, the wretched Daru could neither speak nor 
move. His base plot had been discovered. The 
accused had been absolved and raised to honor; 
he, the informer, had been detected and mocked. 
Mocked ! And was that all ? Would that it were. 
But he was here before the dread Council, and the 
awful prison-house was near. 

“ This , 77 continued the doge, 11 is an admirable 
picture, a masterpiece, which shall adorn our walls. 
As to your work, why, you shall be rewarded — for 
all that you have done . 77 

There was a terrible meaning in these words. 
As the doge ended, he made a sign to the attend- 
ants, and they led Daru away. 

Priuli was restored to liberty in a few days, 
but Daru, after having been kept in prison for about 
a year, left Venice, and never came back. 




134 


THE WINGED LION. 


CHAPTER X. 


A nothef Call on the Police , with the Result thereof. — The 
Story of the ambitious Money-Lender and his malig?iant 
Plot. 



FTER quitting the Palazzo Manfrini, they 
' ^ \L went home. Leaving his friends here, 
Yernon proceeded to the Bureau of Police 
in order to find out whether they had received any 
information from Yerona. The answer was neither 
satisfactory nor encouraging. They had heard 
nothing from their messenger, and they could not 
give any idea of the time when they would hear. 
It struck Yernon that there was an unpleasant air 
of indifference about these gentlemen of the po- 
lice ; and there was a vague impression made unon 
his mind that perhaps they expected to be paid for 
these labors, which were outside of their usual 
routine. Had Yernon been in the possession of his 
usual presence of mind, he would have understood 
the situation at once, and have taken the hint 
which these noble gentlemen of the police were 
not slow to give. He would have feed them lib- 
erally all round, and then — why, the business 
would have been promptly performed, and this 


THE POLICE. 


135 


story would have taken a different turn altogether. 
But Vernon was not at all his usual self. He was 
absent-minded ; his thoughts went wool-gathering ; 
moreover, he did not feel any very great anxiety 
to bring the business to an end. The fact was, 
he was infatuated about Gracie, and his present 
situation was so delightful that he dreaded any 
change. The advent of Gracie’s aunt upon the 
scene might put an end to his pleasant wanderings 
with her. The aunt might be grim, and precise, 
and rigid, and over-particular, and therefore he 
dreaded her arrival. He certainly did all that was 
befitting ; but he did not show that fertility of re- 
source, that energy and zeal, which he would have 
exhibited under different circumstances. And so 
he did not fee the police, and the police, as will 
afterwards appear, were languid in their efforts ; 
and Gracie’s aunt remained hidden under a dense 
cloud, and Vernon had to console Gracie as best 
he could. 

He explained to Gracie that everything was go- „ 
ing on well, but that as yet no tidings had been 
received. He showed, however, that there had 
not yet been sufficient time to hear anything, and 
encouraged her by the assurance that in a day or 
two all would be well. He urged her to think of 
Italy as she would think of Massachusetts, and 
declared that no danger could possibly befall any 
one. 

u In a day or two,” said he, u you will see her. 


136 


THE WINGED LION. 


It’ll take a day for the messenger to get to Verona 
and start the Verona police on the search ; well, 
that’s what has been done to-day : another day will 
be needed to find her ; no more than that, I should 
think, will be necessary ; well, that’s to-morrow : 
the third day will be taken up with her journey 
here, or else with the sending of a message to you. 
And so, you know, I really don’t see any cause for 
anxiety.” 

In spite of these confident assurances, however, 
Gracie did feel anxious — very anxious. 

“ It isn’t because I’m afraid of any danger hap- 
pening to her, Mr. Vernon,” she said ; u but I fear 
very much that her anxiety about me will make 
her ill. She is very much inclined to worry about 
things, and to lose me in this way is something 
terrible. O, I think I ought to have gone back to 
Verona.” 

u To Verona ! ” said Vernon, aghast. 11 0, no — 
no, no. You did exactly right. For after all, your 
aunt may come here, and if so, she will communi- 
cate with the police at once, and will find you with- 
out any trouble. 0, no ; it would have been mad- 
ness for you to go back to Verona.” 

In this way Vernon succeeded in quelling the 
fears of Gracie, and after this he tried to divert 
her thoughts from so painful a subject by turning 
them to other things. He had other pictures to 
show her, he said, about which he wished to have 
her opinion. There were two in particular, and 


VERNON’S PICTURES. 


13T 


each of these was connected with a story, which 
story he had written out in his manuscript. The 
mention of this excited Grade’s curiosity, and 
Vernon produced the pictures, while Grade, and 
David, and Clive all looked at them with the deep- 
est interest. 

The first one was called u The Lion’s Mouth.” 
It represented a man dropping a paper into that 
awful receptacle. The paper was supposed to con- 
tain a denunciation of some one. The face of the 
informer was turned towards the spectator, as his 
hand dropped the paper, and there was upon it a 
marvellous portrayal of hate, fear, vigilance, re- 
venge, together with cunning, and vulgar exulta- 
tion. It was a mean and contemptible face, and 
the skill of the artist was shown in his subtile de- 
lineation of these mingled passions. 

They all looked at this picture with the deepest 
interest and admiration. 

u You do not know what it is about,” said Ver- 
non. 

“ 0, yes,” said Gracie ; u the picture is eloquent. 
It tells all ; but of course it does not tell the names 
and the minor incidents, and so, if you are not tired, 
and are willing to read us one of your stories, I’m 
sure we should all feel very much obliged.” 

“ Of course,” said Vernon, “ if you are willing to 
listen, I shall be very happy to read the story.” 

Saying this, he read from his manuscript the 
story of 


138 


THE WINGED LION. 


Memmo and Yaliero. 

The Venetian republic was a nation of shop- 
keepers. In this commercial state nearly all the 
nobles were engaged in trade ; and from them 
arose the name Merchant Princes. Dealers in 
money arose, and throve among them at an early 
period. In the twelfth century a bank was estab- 
lished, — the first in the world, — which flourished 
for centuries before any other land had a similar 
institution. Private money-lenders, usurers, and 
brokers were as common at Venice in the middle 
ages as they are now, in the nineteenth century, in 
London. Money was subject to the same fluctua- 
tions. Hard times came and went. The rate of 
interest varied, and all sorts of contrivances were 
resorted to for the sake of obtaining the needful. 

Conspicuous among these Venetian bankers 
was Memmo, a self-made man, who had risen from 
nothing, and by a long course of prosperous specu- 
lation and money-lending had made himself wealthy. 
Many nobles were among his debtors, and among* 
those who were deepest on his books was Valiero, 
a member of one of the proudest families in th e 
state. Like most other nobles, he was engaged in 
business ; but various misfortunes had overtaken 
him, and, he was compelled to raise money by all 
the wretched devices known to men in difficulties. 
From Memmo he had obtained what he wanted, 
and in return had mortgaged his houses and estates, 


THE MONEY-LENDER’S PLOT. 


139 


and had given his obligations for immense sums. 
At last it seemed to Memmo that Valiero was com- 
pletely in his power, and that the time had come 
for broaching a plan which had been in his mind 
for years. 

Memmo was ambitious. He had gained wealth, 
but that was not enough. He wished to obtain 
social distinction. For this he was willing to make 
pecuniary sacrifices to almost any extent. The 
misfortunes of Yaliero and his immense debts 
seemed to open a way for the accomplishment of 
his wishes. He had a daughter, Yaliero had a son. 
If these two could be married it would at once 
bring the self-made Memmo into the charmed circle 
of the aristocracy; and while Yaliero should be- 
come free from debt, Memmo should rise to that 
lofty world where dwelt those whose noble names 
were inscribed in the Libro d’ Oro. 

Yaliero came to him one day in want of more 
money. 

Memmo asked what security he had to give. 

Yaliero’s property was all covered by mort- 
gages, and nothing was left but his ships and car- 
goes. 

“ 1 have ships,” said he, “ with cargoes of silk 
and spices. They will soon be here, and retrieve 
all.” 

Memmo shook his head. 

“ A ship at sea is no security. The Turks, the 
tempests, and all other accidents and dangers, await 


140 


THE WINGED LION. 


them. Besides, you have been unfortunate, and 
my experience has been that when once ill luck 
assails a man, it never leaves him.” 

Yaliero sighed. 

“ It’s true,” said he, “ I’ve been unfortunate of 
late. But I have hope yet.” 

“ Your last hope.” 

“ It’s my last hope.” 

11 And if it fails ? ” 

“ Then I’m a ruined man,” said Yaliero. 

“ Ruined. 0, no,” said Memmo.; “not ruined — 
not while I live. We’ll pull through, after all.” 

Yaliero looked at him earnestly, as though not 
quite understanding him. 

“ You mean that you will help me ? ” he asked. 

11 Well, I’ve got an idea,” said Memmo. “ I’ve 
been thinking over it for some time, and I may as 
well mention it now. You see our connection thus 
far has been of a purely business character.” 

“ Yes,” said Yaliero. 

“ Well, we might place our connection upon a 
different footing.” 

“ I don’t think I understand you,” said Yaliero, 
with a look of surprise. He had not the slightest 
idea what Memmo’s meaning could be. 

“ You have a son,” continued Memmo. 

“ Yes,” said Yaliero, still in the same state of 
surprise. 

“ I have a daughter,” said Memmo, and then 
hesitated. 


THE MONEY-LENDER’S PLOT. 


141 


“ What of that ? ” said Yaliero. 11 What has that 
to do with my business.” 

“ This,” said Memmo. “ Listen. Ruin is before 
you, and poverty, and despair. You can never sur- 
vive your fortunes. You have fallen too far. Now 
all this may be avoided by the marriage of your 
son with my daughter.” 

For a few moments Yaliero stared in silence, as 
though unable to credit the proposal. 

11 Your daughter .! ” he said, at length. “ My 
son ! married ! Why, man, are you mad ? ” 

The tone with which Yaliero spoke was worse 
than the words. It was the tone which might be 
assumed by some superior being. The prospect of 
ruin had not diminished Yaliero’s pride, and it was 
evident that he regarded Memmo’s proposal with 
unutterable scorn and indignation, as a piece of 
unwarrantable insolence and presumption. Memmo 
said not a word, but the fierce passion within him 
made his heart throb fast and furious ; and if he 
did not speak, it was because he found no words 
that could express his feelings. 

“ You don’t understand,” continued Yaliero, 
with a laugh of scorn. “ We nobles can meet ruin 
if it comes — and poverty — yes, and despair — for 
all these are sent by Providence, and there is noth- 
ing left but submission and brave endurance ; but 
to stoop to dishonor, to soil our family name, to 
damn our posterity by a mesalliance ! 0, my good 
man ! is it possible that you have lived in Yenice, 


142 


THE WINGED LION. 


and can make this proposal to a Yaliero ? Why, 
you’re mad.” 

With these words, Yaliero retired, leaving 
Memmo furious. The insult, the scorn, the abuse, 
all were intolerable. He had but one thought — 
vengeance. He would press his claims at once. 
He would crush Yaliero in the dust. He would 
show no mercy, nor would he ever repeat the 
offer. 

Memmo had been very confident in his maxim, 
that when ill luck fastens upon a man it never 
leaves him ; but he was destined to find it untrue. 
For after all, though Yaliero’s difficulties had been 
great, still his resources were immense, and it was 
hardly possible that out of his vast wealth, which 
was afloat at sea, he should receive nothing. The 
fact was, he received it all. The ships had been 
delayed in various ways ; but a few days after his 
interview with Memmo one of them arrived ; and 
afterwards others came, arriving one by one, until 
at last all had reached port, bringing with them 
cargoes of immense value. Yaliero’s difficulties 
all vanished, and for the risk he had run he re- 
ceived corresponding profits. 

All this sank deep into Memmo’s soul. Yaliero 
was now completely out of his power, and more- 
over far beyond his reach. Y et he still cherished his 
desire for vengeance, and resolved to watch with 
sleepless vigilance for some chance to gratify this 
desire. But first of all he sought out Yaliero, and 


THE MONEY-LENDER’S PLOT. 


143 


made a most abject apology. With great apparent 
frankness lie owned up all. He said that he thought 
him ruined — was resolved to help him — but at 
the same time, from foolish fondness for his daugh- 
ter, made the proposal. A common man like him- 
self, he said, did not understand the feelings of the 
nobility. For himself, he was only a plain and sim- 
ple man, and if he had offended, it was uninten- 
tional, and was only owing to foolish parental fond- 
ness. To all this Valiero listened most gracious- 
ly. His prosperity made him condescending and 
affable. 

u Never mind,” said he. u Say no more. I shall 
only remember the help you gave me ; and mark 
you, Memmo, I believe you are an honest man, for 
you did not charge half so much as you might.” 

u Heaven save me from taking usury,” said 
Memmo. 11 What profits I make I come by hon- 
estly.” 

After this, Memmo was treated by Yaliero with 
much kindness and confidence. The explanation, 
so humbly made, had smoothed away all difficulties, 
and effaced every unpleasant recollection. The 
business connection remained, although now it was 
Memmo who appeared to solicit favors, and who 
made all the advances. He was keeping Yaliero 
in view, and watching all his acts so as to find 
something of which he might avail himself in his 
efforts after revenge. At length his vigilance was 
rewarded, for an event happened which was the 
very thing that he desired. 


144 


THE WINGED LION. 


There was a certain French noble, the ' Count 
de Ligny, with whom Yaliero had formed a close 
friendship in early youth, when De Ligny had been 
on the ambassador’s suite at Venice. Afterwards 
Yaliero had visited France, and the two had kept 
up their friendship ever since. It happened that a 
conspiracy had been discovered by the French 
King Louis XI., in which De Ligny was implicated ; 
but on receiving notice from his friends, the noble 
escaped the king’s wrath, and fled from France. 
On reaching Italy, he sought refuge with his friend 
Yaliero, at Venice. King Louis received informa- 
tion of this, and at once sent a demand to the Ve- 
netian government for the surrender of the fugi- 
tive. The Venetian government promised to make 
a search for him, and if he were in their dominions, 
to deliver him up, which promise came to the ears 
of Valiero, and made him anxious to send his friend 
out of danger. 

Assistance was necessary in this matter, and 
no one seemed so well able to give the requisite 
help as the honest and simple Memmo. To Memmo, 
therefore, he applied ; and that worthy, with the 
affectation of deep sympathy, promised to find a 
vessel and go himself with De Ligny to Ancona. 
Valiero was deeply grateful, and Memmo at once 
set out to provide the means of escape. The prep- 
arations were hurriedly made, and before twenty- 
four hours had passed, De Ligny was beyond the 
reach of danger. Memmo returned, and Valiero’s 
gratitude could scarce find words. 


THE MONEY-LENDER’S PLOT. 


145 


That very day, Memmo dropped into the 11 Lion’s 
Month ” information against Yaliero, for harboring 
the rebel De Ligny, and sending him away to An- 
cona, in spite of the Venetian government. 

It was a serious charge. The Venetians were 
anxious, above all things, to keep on friendly terms 
with France, and had hoped very earnestly to be 
able to gratify this wish of King Louis. Valiero 
was therefore arrested, and his family was plunged 
into an abyss of despair. The loss of the head 
of that family was terrible, but beyond this there 
was a series of calamities — the torture of their 
loved father — the condemnation and degradation 
— the confiscation of his property — poverty, 
shame, and despair. All these calamities lowered 
before them, and crushed them into the dust. 
These same things were in the mind of Memmo, 
and in all the glow of gratified pride he exulted in 
his revenge, and had to seek out Valiero’s family in 
order to feast his eyes upon their grief. The only 
one of the family whom he could see was Marco, 
the son of Valiero, the very one to whom he had 
once proposed to marry his daughter. The exulta- 
tion of Memmo made him forget his usual caution ; 
and Marco, who had at first expected to find sym- 
pathy, and perhaps the humble offer of assistance, 
was horrified at finding him transformed to an open 
enemy, whose coarse and brutal triumph was dis- 
played without any attempt at concealment. 

“ Aha ! ” he said ; “ so he’s gone ! I’ve heard all 

10 


146 


THE WINGED LION. 


about it. Now he knows that a Venetian noble is 
not a god. Now he may know what it is to suffer 
degradation, and to feel what he has made me feel 
— shame, and humiliation, and despair.” 

“ Of whom are you speaking ? ” asked Marco. 

“ Of your father,” said Memmo ; “ your father in 
the piombi .” 

The hot blood mounted to Marco’s brow, but 
he repressed his feelings. For quick as thought 
there came into his mind a strange suspicion, which, 
when it had once come, grew stronger. Master- 
ing, therefore, his emotion, he said in a slow and 
self-contained, manner, — 

“ I was not aware that my father had done you 
wrong.” 

“ Wrong! He did me outrageous wrong,” said 
Memmo ; “ wrongs never to be forgotten. Never 
shall I forgive him, as he stood with his haughty 
face, and crushed me into the dust.” 

“ I thought you were his friend,” said Marco, in 
the same tone. 

“ His friend ! ” said Memmo. “ Ah ! so you did ; 
so did he ; he thought me his friend, too ; but no ; I 
had my wrongs to avenge, and I was waiting for 
my opportunity.” 

“Wrongs!” said Marco. “What wrongs were 
they ? ” 

Upon this, Memmo poured forth the whole story 
with astonishing volubility and passion, interrupt- 
ing it with a running fire of exclamations and exe- 


THE MONEY-LENDER’S PLOT. 


14T 


orations. It was the first time that Marco had 
heard of this. He knew Memmo’s daughter, and 
almost smiled at the thought of such a wife. For 
she was well known among the golden youth of 
Venice, especially those fast young men who did 
business with Memmo, and generally went by the 
nickname of the “ Golden Fleece,” perhaps because 
at her father’s house they were fleeced out of their 
gold. But it was not the time for smiles. The 
“ Golden Fleece ” was soon forgotten. The dark 
suspicion which had occurred grew stronger and 
stronger, and every word of Memmo’s only served 
to confirm it. 

“ If my father,” said he, in a haughty tone, “ had 
been so base as to consent to such a thing, he 
would have found that my consent had also to be 
obtained.” 

“ Aha ! ” said Memmo ; “ is that so ; and is that 
your way, my young Lord of Glory ? ” 

“ Peace ! ” said Marco. “Look here, old Memmo. 
I have let you have full swing, and now a word 
with you. Don’t boast so much ; don’t talk about 
the Piazza ; for, hark you, I know who took the 
Count de Ligny to Ancona ! ” 

At this Memmo’s face grew livid. He stared 
at Marco as though suddenly struck dumb. Then 
he said, in a faltering voice, — 

“ Who ? ” 

“ You,” said Marco ; “ my father told me all.” 

“ He — he — said — that he would tell no one,” 
said Memmo, in a scarce audible voice. 


148 


THE WINGED LION. 


11 Of course ; but he would naturally except me, 
for he never kept any secrets from me.” . 

Memmo seemed utterly overwhelmed. He had 
confidently believed that the secret of De Ligny’s 
escape was known only to himself and Yaliero. 
He had thought that Yaliero had kept it secret 
even from his own family. Of Marco he had never 
thought at all. He had seemed a shallow youth, 
intent only on fashion or pleasure. Now he made 
the appalling discovery that this Marco was his 
father over again — with a keener vision, a stronger 
nature, and a deeper purpose than that father had 
ever known ; and that he had read his thoughts, 
and saw him through and through. In that young 
but stern face there seemed not a trace of mercy ; 
and in looking upon it Memmo seemed to be read- 
ing his doom. 

11 0, my dear, 0, my dear,” he said, confusedly. 
lt It was all a jest. I was your father’s dear friend ; 
it was all a jest ; a jest, you know. Old Memmo 
must have his jest.” 

Marco turned away abruptly. Memmo called 
after him, and tried to detain him. In vain. Marco 
shook him off. Then Memmo went home with a 
sense of impending ruin that filled him with de- 
spair. 

As for Marco, all was plain to him, and he has- 
tened to do the only thing that was in his power. 
He hastened to the Ducal Palace, and there 
dropped into the Lion’s Mouth his charge against 
Memmo. 


THE MONEY-LENDER’S PLOT. 


149 


Memmo was just beginning to rally from his 
first stupor of despair, and to think wildly of flight, 
when he was arrested by the awful messengers of 
the government. After this, but little remains to be 
told. On the rack the wretched Memmo revealed 
all. The government chose to consider him the 
more guilty. Valiero was set free, since his offence 
was the act of loyal friendship ; but Memmo was 
punished, since his offence had been committed 
from the motives of avarice, jealousy, and treach- 
ery. Had he been a principal in the act, his prop- 
erty would have been confiscated ; but as he was 
only an agent, the government contented them- 
selves with imposing a fine which did not amount 
to more than nine tenths of all that he had. In 
addition to this, they banished him for life ; and so 
Memmo, taking what little there was left, departed 
with the “ Golden Fleece ” to another and a kinder 
country. 

After some conversation upon the incidents of 
the story, Vernon showed them another painting. 
This one was quite different from the last. 

The scene was on the Piazza of St. Mark. The 
central figure was a young girl of exquisite beauty. 
This beauty was of a strange, Oriental cast, and 
was heightened by her costume, which was Turk- 
ish. Her beautiful face was full of mingled inno- 
cence and anxious eagerness ; she seemed to be in 
search of something. A crowd was around her, 


150 


THE WINGED LION. 


who appeared to be trying by means of signs to 
communicate with the lovely stranger ; but her eyes 
were fixed upon something in the distance, with a 
pathetic and wistful inquiry. 

“ You can make out nothing from that picture,” 
said Vernon. 

“ I can,” said Gracie. 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ It tells its own story,” said Gracie. “ Your 
pictures speak, Mr. Vernon. This lovely Turk tells 
me that she has come to Venice in search of her 
lover ; and here, amid all this crowd in the Piazza 
she is trying to find him.” 

Vernon looked at Gracie for a moment in silent 
admiration. 

“ I don’t think,” said he, “ that I ever saw any 
one like you — in all my life — I wish — but no 
matter — shall I read the story ? ” 

“ 0, yes — do, by all means.” 

“It is the story of Fatima,” said Vernon, who 
then went on and read from his manuscript. 


THE STORY OP FATIMA. 


151 


CHAPTER XI. 



The Story of Fatima. 

LFEO MANFRINI was tlie commander 
of a galley in the Venetian fleet that was 
despatched to the East with re-enforce- 
ments and supplies for the relief of the garrison 
at Scio. During the voyage a storm arose, and 
the fleet was scattered. When it had passed over, 
Manfrini found himself alone upon the deep, with 
not a single sail visible anywhere. He kept on 
his course, however, as before, hoping to fall in 
again with his friends, and at length saw sails in 
the distance, which he supposed to belong to the 
fleet that he was seeking. Towards this he hur- 
ried as fast as possible, and some of these, on see- 
ing him, bore down upon him. But for Manfrini 
there was a dreadful disappointment. As the ships 
drew near, he perceived, to his horror, that they 
were not Venetian, but Turkish. He had flung 
himself into the midst of his worst enemies. To 
fight was not to be thought of, as that meant utter 
destruction ; to fly was impossible, yet it was the 
only course open, and he tried it. The attempt, 
however, was all in vain. The enemy rapidly over- 
hauled him, and at length he was captured. 


152 


THE WINGED LION. 


He was conveyed to Constantinople, and after 
a time fell into the hands of a wealthy Turk who 
lived near Scutari. He was taken here by his 
new master, and found himself on an extensive 
estate, where there were many other slaves, over 
whom was an aged Turk of severe aspect and 
morose manner. The master left the whole man- 
agement of the slaves to this overseer, whose name 
was Kaled, which said Kaled, after some examina- 
tion of Manfrini, placed him in the garden to assist 
in the work that went on there. The work was 
not hard, and Kaled did not seem to expect much 
from the new slave ; but Manfrini could not forget 
his beloved native land, and often and often the 
ground where he worked was wet with his tears. 

Manfrini was left very much to himself. Kaled 
made the garden his peculiar care, and directed 
Manfrini about his daily task. It was the custom 
of Kaled, after his daily instructions, to retire, and 
leave Manfrini alone. The place to which his work 
was directed was a plot of ground immediately 
under the north end of the villa, and here Manfrini 
used to pass his time. There was a low basement 
with a window, over which was another window 
looking out upon him. 

Here Manfrini was one day at work alone ; and 
feeling weary, he sat down, and burying his face 
in his hands, began to weep. In the midst of his 
mournful thoughts and his wretched homesickness, 
his ear caught the sound of a low sigh. Hastily he 


THE STORY OF FATIMA. 


153 


looked up. There, at the window just above him, 
he saw a beautiful face. It was a young girl, and 
her large dark eyes were fixed upon him with 
earnest solicitude, while upon her sweet face there 
was an expression of tenderest sympathy. It was 
all taken in with a momentary glance, for no sooner 
had he looked up than the sweet face vanished. 

Manfrini stood for some time staring at the win- 
dow, half thinking that it was all a dream. The 
window there, open, without lattice, was now only 
a blank ; yet a short time before it had been like a 
framework to the loveliest and sweetest face that 
ever his eyes had rested on. Who was she ? 
Where had she gone? Would she ever come 
again ? All thoughts of home, all feelings of 
homesickness, now fled away, and he could think 
of nothing but the lovely vision. He felt that it 
must be real. He could also guess who it might 
be. Old Kaled had muttered something about the 
lady Fatima, his master’s daughter ; and Manfrini 
had picked up enough of Turkish to understand 
common words. Fatima, the master’s daughter ! 
Was this Fatima? and did Fatima feel pity for 
him, the wretched captive ? He longed to make 
some communication to her ; to show her how 
sweet such pity was. But how ? There was only 
one way — a harmless way, too. These flowers that 
grew around afforded a language of their own quite 
as intelligible as speech. Manfrini knew that lan- 
guage, and he had heard that it was invented in 


154 


THE WINGED LION. 


the East, in which case Fatima doubtless knew it 
as well as himself. So he gathered a small bunch 
which held these flowers — the Camellia Japonica, 
meaning “ My destiny is in your hands ; ” the Cross 
of Jerusalem, “ Devotion; ” the Laurustine, u I die 
if neglected ; ” and the Pansy, “ Think of me.” 

This bunch he laid on the window, and then 
awaited the result. 

Evening came, and he had to leave. He was 
full of curiosity as to how his little offering would 
be received, and full of recollections of that sweet 
vision. The next day came, and once more he was 
taken to the garden, and Kaled gave his directions 
and left. He now worked for some hours, keeping 
his eyes on the window, in hopes of seeing some- 
thing. Nothing, however, appeared. He began 
to feel dejected. The lovely Fatima had not seen 
his offering, or had been offended. Such were his 
thoughts. 

He was working under the window in a dejected 
mood, when suddenly a bunch of flowers fell im- 
mediately before him. He grasped it, and looked 
up. No one was there. He looked at the flowers. 
The first glance showed him that they formed an 
answer to his own offering. 

They were these: The Snowdrop, “ Consolation 
the Scarlet Ipomoea, u I attach myself to you ; ” and 
a spray of the Arbor Vitae, “ Live for me.” 

Manfrini was now full of joy and hope. The 
lovely Fatima thought of him. Perhaps he might 


THE STORY OF FATIMA. 


155 


see her again ; perhaps the time might come when 
he could speak to her. But for the present he 
must content himself with the flowers. He now 
made up another bunch, and placed it on the win- 
dow. 

One flower was the Lily of the Valley, “ My hap- 
piness has returned ; ” another, the Sweet Sultan, 
“ I rejoice ; ” another, the Dahlia, u I am thine for- 
ever ; ” and to these he added the sweet little “For- 
get-me-not” 

This bunch he placed on the window and waited ; 
but for some time there was no response, and he 
had to console himself with those first flowers, 
which he treasured next his heart. 

At length one day, after Kaled had gone, Man- 
frini saw the well-remembered face. She smiled 
sweetly and sadly, then vanished. This was some- 
thing. It showed that she might come again. That 
smile was like sunshine, and cheered Manfrini all 
the day. At length towards evening, just before 
his time for retiring, the face appeared again. He 
started forward with clasped hands, in an attitude 
of entreaty. This time the face did not vanish. 

The window was low, and but a few inches above 
Manfrini’s head. 

“ 0,” he murmured, in his faltering Turkish, “ do 
not go ; let me see you a moment.” 

A flush passed over the lovely face of Fatima, 
and her eyes drooped, hidden under the long silken 
fringe of eyelashes. 


156 


THE WINGED LION. 


“ Your face,” said Manfrini, “ is like sunlight. 
When you go, all is dark to me. Will you speak, 
and let me hear your sweet voice ? ” 

u Alfeo ! ” said Fatima, in a low, timid voice. It 
was his Christian name — the name by which he 
was known here, for the Turks found it easier to 
pronounce than Manfrini. 

“ Fatima ! ” said Manfrini. He drew nearer. 
Her little hand was resting on the window-sill. 
He pressed it in his. 

From that time forth not a day passed on which 
Manfrini did not see Fatima and speak to her. 
There was no one to watch them. Old Kaled 
seemed to have other things to attend to ; and as 
for Fatima, she was able to elude any observation 
or suspicion within the household. Manfrini had 
a great motive now for mastering the Turkish lan- 
guage, and made rapid progress under so sweet a 
teacher. 

11 Are you happy here ? ” asked Fatima, one day. 

u So long as I may hope to see you/’ said Man- 
frini, u I am happy. I want no more.” 

“ But you are a slave,” said Fatima. u In your 
own country you are a noble. If you embraced 
Islam you might be a noble here.” 

“ Ah, yes,” said Manfrini ; “ but that is impos- 
sible.” 

“ Then you must escape,” said Fatima. 

11 Escape 1 ” said Manfrini ; and at the thought a 
thrill of joy passed through him ; but a moment 


THE STORY OF FATIMA. 


15T 


after it was followed by despondency. “ No, no/* 
said he ; “ it is impossible. Besides, so long as yon 
are here, this slavery is sweeter than liberty with- 
out you.’ 7 

Tears started to Fatima’s eyes. She smiled, and 
then said, in a low and tremulous voice, — 

“If you could escape — would you ? ” 

“ And leave you ! ” said Manfrini, reproachfully. 

“ Would you take me?” whispered Fatima. 

II 0 Heavens ! ” said Manfrini ; “ would you ? Do 
you mean it ? Could you give up your home, and 
incur the danger — the peril of flight ? ” 

II I have been thinking of it,” said Fatima, gently. 

Manfrini seized her hand, and covered it with 

kisses. 

“ Listen,” said Fatima. “ I have been planning 
this ever since I first saw you. There is a fisher- 
man here devoted to me. I have spoken with 
him. It is all arranged. So soon as you are ready 
to start, you can go.” 

At this Manfrini was again overwhelmed. 

“ Go ! Escape ! ” he faltered. “ But you ! will 
you let me go? and do you think I can leave you?” 

“ You need not leave me,” said Fatima, u if you 
will take me. And I am glad to hear you say that 
you do not want to leave me.” 

“ Leave you ! ” said Manfrini. u To lose you 
would be worse than death. You have made me 
forget my country. You are all the world to me. 
I would rather be with you — a slave — than be 


158 


THE WINGED LION. 


free, if I had to lose you. 0, then, if you have the 
courage to do it, come with me ; let us fly. You 
shall be as rich and as honored as you are now, if 
we only escape ; and all my life shall be spent in 
the effort to make you happy.” 

u I believe every word that you say,” said Fati- 
ma, simply, 11 and your words are very sweet to 
me. Yes, I will go, Alfeo ; and for you I will give 
up father and mother, and country and friends, and 
religion, too, Alfeo. I will give up all for you. 
And I have made all the arrangements. And my 
father is away now, so that we can leave with less 
danger.” 

A long conversation followed, in which Fatima 
explained the whole plan which she had made. 
She had seen that Manffini would remain a miser- 
able slave till he died, nor could he ever be more 
than a slave to her, unless he could escape ; but in 
his native fluid he would be rich and noble. She 
had deliberately chosen to give up all for his sake, 
preferring by this venture to be his wife at Yenice, 
rather than his master’s daughter at Scutari. She 
had bribed a fisherman, who was prepared to take 
them to the Morea, whence they could go to 
Yenice ; and for funds to support them on the 
way, she had her jewels. Finally, immediate ac- 
tion was necessary, so as to leave before her 
father’s return. It was arranged, therefore, that 
they should leave on the following evening. The 
fisherman should come for Manfrini, and Fatima 
would join them as soon as possible. 


THE STORY OF FATIMA. 


159 


That night Manfrini could not sleep. Before 
him was the prospect of escape, of home, friends, 
honors, of Fatima, without whom all else would be 
poor indeed. Morning came, and he went to his 
work. Once or twice he saw Fatima’s face at the 
window ; but she only staid for a moment, and 
then, with a warning gesture, withdrew. Manfrini 
hoped to have the opportunity of speaking with 
her, but this was eclipsed by the greater hope of 
flying with her from these hostile shores. 

Old Kaled that day did not leave at his usual 
time. On the contrary, he busied himself in the 
garden until dark. Once or twice Fatima appeared 
at the window, but she saw Kaled and retreated. 
Manfrini was troubled at this. It was unfortunate, 
and looked as though Kaled had done it inten- 
tionally. At length it was dark, and the old Turk 
came up to him. 

u Follow me,” said he, in his usual rough tone. 

Manfrini was startled at this, and followed Kaled 
full of dark forebodings. The old Turk led the 
way, and went out into the road, and down towards 
the shore, which was not far away. Here there 
was a boat. 

11 Get in,” said he, with an imperious gesture. 

Manfrini did so, wondering what it all meant. 
His only thought was, that his project had been 
discovered, and that he was being taken away to 
death — that secret and terrible death by bow- 
string, with which the Turks were wont to punish 


160 


THE WINGED LION. 


those wretched slaves who had incurred their dis- 
pleasure. A wild thought of resistance came to 
him ; but he was unarmed, and Kaled was armed. 
He therefore obeyed in silence, yet in despair. 

Kaled pushed off the boat, and taking the helm, 
ordered Manfrini to hoist the sail. Manfrini did 
so. The sail caught the favoring wind, and the 
boat, shooting out from the bay, went far away 
over the waters. 

“ Where are we going ? ” asked Manfrini at last, 
unable to repress the impatience and anxiety with 
which he was tortured. 

u Peace, slave,” said Kaled, sternly, “ and obey 
my commands.” 

Manfrini subsided into silence, and gave himself 
up to despairing thoughts. Yes, all was plain ; he 
had been discovered. The crafty Kaled had come 
to punish him, and was now taking him to death. 
As for Fatima, she was lost forever. 

Hour after hour passed. Sleep was impossible. 
The stern Kaled sat as rigid as stone at the helm, 
and Manfrinks despairing thoughts of Fatima were 
intermingled with wondering conjectures as to his 
destination. It was with such feelings as these 
that he passed the night, for all that night the 
boat sped over the waves, borne by a favoring 
breeze ; and when the sun rose, Manfrini looked 
around, and saw nothing but a wide expanse of 
water, with low lines here and there on the hori- 
zon, marking the presence of distant shores. 


THE STORY OF FATIMA. 


161 


Kaled pushed a box towards Manfrini. 

II Eat / ’ said he, pointing to the box. 

Manfrini shook his head and turned away. He 
had reached the extreme verge of despair. Fati- 
ma was lost. This fierce old Turk had brought 
him for many a mile out into the sea. For what ? 
For some fresh captivity ? If that was so, he 
would not submit. Better a brief struggle here, 
even if he should perish, than a lingering captivity 
in Smyrna or Alexandria. To make a sudden spring 
upon that old man seemed an easy thing. True, he 
was armed, but he might be taken unawares. 

II I think I will take some food,” said Manfrini, 
quietly. 

He drew nearer to Kaled, and as he opened the 
lid of the box, watched the old man with cautious 
sidelong glances. The Turk did not notice him. He 
was looking at vacancy with an abstracted face, — 
the face of one who was buried in his own thoughts, 
— and saw nothing of the w T orld around. 

Suddenly, with a bound, Manfrini had flung him- 
self upon Kaled, with one hand on his throat, and 
the other on the pistol in his belt. The next in- 
stant Kaled lay on his back in the bottom of the 
boat, and Manfrini, with the muzzle of the pistol 
pressed against his forehead, cried, — 

“ Villain, I have you now ! You must die ! But 
tell me how you found out our plan ; and tell me 
what has become of Fatima. If you wish to live, 
11 


162 


THE WINGED LION. 


speak the truth. If I detect one single lie, I will 
blow your brains out.” 

Kaled gasped for breath. Then he spoke, and 
as he spoke, every word thrilled through the in- 
most heart of Manfrini. 

u 0, signor, forgive me for what I have done. I 
am a Venetian. I am trying to escape.” 

These words were spoken in Italian with the 
Venetian accent, and at their sound the passion 
and the fury of Manfrini all passed away. Amaze- 
ment overwhelmed him, and all his soul was moved 
to its inmost depths by the sound of that loved 
Italian speech, to which he had so long been a 
stranger. He started back, the pistol dropped 
from his hand. He raised the aged man with 
tender hands from the bottom of the boat, and in 
a voice which was tremulous with agitation, he 
gasped forth, — 

“ Who are you ? ” 

“ I am your countryman. Forgive me,” said the 
other. 

“ But you are a Turk — a Mohammedan.” 

“ 1 will tell you all,” said the old man, “ and then 
kill me if you choose. Still, hear me first, and then 
do as you please. I am a Venetian,” the old man 
began. “ My name is Giuseppe Villano. Twenty 
years ago I was on my way in my own ship with 
a cargo of silk stuffs and spices from Rhodes to 
Venice, and was captured. I lost everything. I 
was taken to Beyrout, then to Damascus, and then 


THE STORY OF FATIMA. 


163 


to other places. You, who have been a captive, 
know something of what I felt ; but my fate was 
harder than yours, for I fell in with cruel masters, 
and lived for three years in anguish and despair. 
The hope of returning to my native country left 
me. Such a thing seemed impossible. Then came 
the devil to me in my despair, and showed me how 
I might escape from my chains. I had only to say 
the Mohammedan formula ; only to utter a half 
dozen words, and at once I might have all the 
rights of a free man. 

“ Enough. I will not dwell upon this. I abjured 
my God and my Saviour ; I gave up my country ; I 
became a renegado, — Kaled, the Turk, — and thus 
I have been for years. At first the change was 
pleasant. I was no longer beaten and tormented. 
I found employers readily, and had all the comforts 
that I could wish. But at last there occurred 
something which has embittered my whole life. 
It was a truce between the sultan and the doge. 
Prisoners were exchanged. Word came that all 
the Venetians should be set free, and sent home. 
I saw it all. I saw the Christian captives de- 
livered from their captivity. I saw all the Vene- 
tian prisoners set forth for their home. All went. 
I — I alone could not go. I had sold myself to the 
devil. I had denied my God. I had given up my 
country, and this was my reward. 0, young man, 
believe me, the devil is a hard master ; and if we 
are captured again, beware of this temptation. Be 


164 


THE WINGED LION. 


a slave in the galleys, go down into the deep dun- 
geon ; ay, kill yourself, do anything, commit any 
crime, but do not give up your country, and deny 
your God ! 

11 As for me, I was condemned to eternal exile. 
I might have escaped, but how could I go back to 
Yenice? My fellow- captives all knew what I had 
done, and the devil had tempted them with my 
example. Now I had given myself up to everlast- 
ing infamy, and I had erected an eternal barrier 
between me and my home. 

li After the return of the Venetians, I became a 
prey to homesickness, and for years that feeling 
has never left me. I have suffered so much from 
this that my old sufferings as a slave seem envi- 
able. 0, how often I have longed to be able to go 
back to that happy, happy slavery, when my suf- 
ferings were only those of the body, and my mind 
was at peace with God ! Then, at least, I could 
pray ; but now — now — the heavens are all black 
above me ; and I have lived all these years with- 
out God and without hope in the world. At last 
I found myself in Scutari. Here I determined to 
t&ke the first chance that presented itself, and go 
home to Yenice. But it was a time of war, and to 
set forth on such a voyage was extremely difficult. 
It was while I was thus deliberating over my best 
course that you came. I at once resolved to win 
your confidence, and get your assistance in my 
plan. But in order to do this I should have to tell 


THE STORY OF FATIMA. 


165 


you my story, and it was a hard thing to do. So I 
postponed it, and contented myself with securing 
you a pleasant position and kind treatment. 

“ A short time ago I was in the basement room, 
and heard your voice. I looked out, and saw you 
talking with some one. I heard you speak her 
name. I understood it all. Pardon me if I say 
that I listened. I listened then, and at other 
times, for all my fate seemed now bound up in 
you. To go home was my one thought — to go 
home, to see my country, to confess to my God. 
Then I could give myself up to the authorities ; 
I could confess ; I could spend all the rest of my 
life in prayer. 0, to be able to pray once more ! 
to pray ! but now I dare not, nor shall I dare to 
pray till I have confessed my sins ; till the church 
shall receive me back into her fold, all unworthy, 
yet penitent, and with a broken and a contrite 
heart, which the God of pity will not despise. 

“ Young man, do not think of me as a treacher- 
ous eavesdropper. 0, think of me as a despair- 
ing sinner, seeking some way of escape from eter- 
nal death — a lost soul, with but one ray of hope, 
with but one last faint chance of flying back to Him 
whom I had denied. 

“ And so,” continued the old man, after a pause, 
u I heard all, and took advantage of it. I took 
you away, and now take your vengeance. Kill 
me ; you have the power. I will not resist. But 
remember it is not my life that you will destroy ; 


166 


THE WINGED LION. 


it is my immortal soul. Can you do that ? Can 
you stand between a despairing wretch and his 
God ? Can you stop my flight ? Are you think- 
ing of going back, in your despair, to see the one 
you love ? I have read your face well. I see it 
all. But, 0, for the love of Heaven, do not stop 
my flight. Help me to seek my soul’s peace. Be 
pitiful. What is your earthly love compared with 
the eternal salvation of a fellow- creature ? Let me 
but stand once more in Venice. Let me confess 
my sins. Let me once more, if it is but once, be 
able to look up to the God of mercy, and utter but 
one word of prayer.” 

The old man had told all his story in a wild and 
vehement manner, and with deep agitation. These 
last words were uttered in a voice of despair- 
ing entreaty, for Manfrini’s stern face seemed to 
indicate a merciless soul. But Marifrini was not 
merciless. He had been profoundly moved by 
this confession, and his own sorrows seemed slight 
indeed compared wuth the anguish and the remorse 
of his companion. 

“ Say no more,” said he. “ Heaven forbid that 
I should stand between a penitent sinner and his 
God. For me, I have lost what is dearer than life ; 
but you, I plainly see, have been thrown in my 
way by Heaven — by One who willeth not the 
death of a sinner, but that all should turn unto 
Him and live.” 

Manfrini said no more. He gave up the tiller 


THE STORY OF FATIMA. 


167 


to Kaled, or rather Villano, and resumed his seat 
forward. After this they sailed on in silence. The 
breeze was fair. Once or twice they saw a sail in 
the distance, but they themselves were not seen, 
or not regarded. After two or three days, during 
which they had more than once a narrow escape 
from capture, they reached Candia. Here they 
found a ship which was just leaving for Venice ; 
and embarking in this, they at length reached their 
destination. Here he parted with Villano, and saw 
him no more. He learned, however, long after- 
wards, that the renegade had made his peace with 
the church, had entered a monastery, and had 
spent the remainder of his life in the exercise of 
that lofty privilege of prayer, which, through long 
suffering, he had come to regard as the highest 
blessedness of man. 

But to Manfrini his return home gave but little 
pleasure. His friends thronged around him, and 
welcomed him with tears of joy as one risen from 
the dead. They heard all his story, and all were 
full of admiration for the lovely infidel who had 
lightened the darkness of his captivity and pre- 
pared a way for his escape. But all this was as 
nothing. To Manfrini it seemed as though all the 
light of life had gone out. All now was sad, and 
flavorless, and dull. His thoughts never ceased to 
revert to those sweet days when he used to stand 
gazing at Fatima’s face, and hear the soft tones of 
her voice, and catch the glance of her loving eyes. 


168 


THE WINGED LION. 


Those were the brightest days of his life ; and free- 
dom without her was worse than slavery with her. 

A year passed away. Manfrini had found new 
occupations, yet his heart was unchanged, and 
Fatima’s image was as clear and prominent as 
ever in his memory. The thought that she was 
lost to him forever was now a familiar one, and 
his only care was to trust to that mighty hand of 
Time which heals all things. 

Such was the condition of Manfrini, when one 
day there landed at the Piazetta a foreign lady, 
richly dressed and of exquisite beauty. Her ap- 
pearance in the thronged Piazza excited universal 
attention, for even there, where many nations and 
many faces were always represented, there never 
had been seen any one like this. What was more 
extraordinary was her eager glance of inquiry. 
She traversed the whole Piazza many times, and 
then began to question passers by. It was evi- 
dent that she was seeking some one. But all that 
she could say was, — 

" Alfeo ! ” 

Alfeo ! And who or what might Alfeo be ? 
Alfeo was a common enough name, like Matteo, 
or Taddeo, or Tito, or Giuglio, or Lorenzo. It was 
indeed a wonderful thing that a beautiful stranger 
should come alone to the Piazza di San Marco, and 
seek after some one of whom she knew nothing 
more than that he was named “ Alfeo.” 

Yet still the beautiful stranger went about, ask- 


THE STORY OF FATIMA. 


169 


ing with plaintive tones and anxious looks after 
“ Alfeo.” 

Many were the conjectures that were made. 
Some thought that she was a Candiote, who had 
lost her father, and was trying to find him ; others, 
that Alfeo was her attendant ; others again thought 
that she was insane, and had escaped from her 
keepers. A thousand other conjectures were 
made ; but all were at length cut short by the 
appearance of the agents of the Ten, who swooped 
down upon the beautiful stranger, and bore her 
away. 

After that every one grew as silent as the grave, 
and talked of everything else under the sun. 

Very fortunate was it for the beautiful stranger 
that she had come to Venice, for there the govern- 
ment, with its countless eyes and innumerable spies, 
knew all the movements of all the people. The 
story of Manfrini was well known to them. Inter- 
preters soon enabled them to learn the story of the 
stranger. 

She was Fatima, the daughter of Almamun, the 
Kadi of Scutari. She had fled from home, and 
came to Venice to find Alfeo. This Alfeo was a 
Venetian who had been a slave, and with whom 
she had intended to fly ; but he had by some mis- 
take gone away with the overseer. So she had 
waited for a chance to follow, and had come over 
the sea, braving a thousand perils, in perfect faith 
and touching innocence, never doubting that she 
would find her dear Alfeo here. 


170 


THE WINGED LION. 


The agents of the Ten did not leave the beauti- 
ful stranger long in suspense. They knew who 
this Alfeo was, and at once sent for him. He came 
with all that trepidation which such a message 
might excite in a Venetian breast. He entered 
the hall with a dark and grisly horror in his soul, 
with thoughts of the rack and the wheel. 

The first thing that he saw was Fatima ! And 
she — the little innocent, all regardless of the ter- 
rors of the Inquisition, and the Bridge of Sighs, 
and the Council of Ten — no sooner saw him than 
with a great cry of joy she rushed into his arms. 

Here Vernon ended. 

11 Well,” said Gracie. 

“ Well,” said Vernon. 

u Is that all ? ” she asked. 

u Why, of course.” 

11 But you have not finished it.” 

“ How ? ” 

“ Why, you should have told all about their mar- 
riage.” 

“ Why ? Isn’t that all understood ? Of course 
they were married, and of course they lived happi- 
ly ever after. That is all implied in the termination 
of the story. Why should it be expressed ? ” 

u 0, yes,” said Gracie, “ you’re right. It is your 
art, and you scorn to say things openly when they 
can be suggested. I take back my objection, and 
see that your way of ending the story is best. But, 


THE STORY OF FATIMA. 


171 


then, you know one loves to have everything plain- 
ly stated ; and that’s the way the old story-tellers 
always did, for they always made it a point of con- 
science to end a story with a minute description of 
the wedding ceremony.” 

“ I’m glad you made that criticism,” said Vernon, 
after a pause. “ I see that I’ve depended too much 
on suggestions. After this I will be more out- 
spoken.” 

Shortly after they all retired for the night. 


172 


THE WINGED LION. 


CHAPTER XII. 


Uncle Moses still on the Search. — On to Venice. — The 
Hotel Zeno. — Distressing Disappointment. — A Visit 
to the Venetian Police. — Frank and Bob go the Rounds. 
— A wonderful City. — Lost. 



5E left Uncle Moses last at Padua. 

Further conversation with the land- 
lord elicited the information that he had 
recommended the Hotel Zeno to David and Clive. 
This was encouraging, for it seemed likely that the 
boys would go there, and that they might be found 
at that place ; or that, at least, some information 
might be gained about them. But their only plan 
was to hurry onward as fast as possible, so as to 
catch these volatile lads before they might leave 
for some new place. Accordingly they left Padua 
on the following morning, and in due time reached 
Venice. 

Arriving here, they found themselves in the 
midst of wonders which impressed them as they 
had impressed Clive and David. This strange si- 
lent city, with canals for streets, with boats for 
carriages, with no sound of life, with universal 
stillness broken only by the ringing of bells or the 


UNCLE MOSES ON THE SEARCH. 


173 


cry of gondoliers, — it never fails to fill the mind of 
the new comer with wonder and admiration. 

But Uncle Moses was altogether too anxious to 
give way to feelings like these, and Frank and 
Bob, though full of the excitement of youth, felt 
themselves somewhat restrained by the sympathy 
which they had for the sorrows of their aged rela- 
tive. And so they were all impatient to reach the 
Hotel Zeno, so as to learn what might now be in 
store for them. Until the lost boys should be 
found, there could be no peace for Uncle Moses, 
and consequently no pleasure for Frank and Bob. 

The gondola brought them to the Hotel Zeno, 
and here they made inquiries. Uncle Moses, in his 
deep despondency, was prepared for some fresh 
disappointment, and therefore it only elicited a 
new though somewhat deeper groan when he 
heard the reply to Frank’s eager question. He 
heard the same news that had already mocked him 
at Bologna, Ferrara, and Padua — the same news 
which he had expected and dreaded to hear at 
Venice. 

Those boys were here. 0, yes ; it was yester- 
day morning they came with a young lady — a Miss 
Lee. 

This piece of information was simply overwhelm- 
ing. A young lady ! Miss Lee ! What did this 
mean? Were these brats of boys beginning to 
pay attentions to young ladies ? Were they infat- 
uated ? Was it Clive, or David, or both? Frank 


174 


THE WINGED LION. 


and Bob stared at one another in utter bewilder- 
ment. 

Then, of course, came the usual information that 
they had gone away. 

“ Where ? ” was the anxious question. 

They did not know. 

Frank now thought of asking this Miss Lee about 
them, and inquired after her. 

The answer was, that she had gone away, too • 
and what was more, that she and the boys had all 
gone away together. Nothing more than this were 
they able to say. They had not noticed the move- 
ments of the boys, or of Miss Lee, very particu- 
larly ; but one of the servants mentioned that there 
were a gentleman and a lady who seemed to be with 
them. 

“ A gentleman and a lady ! ” said Frank, who 
caught at this. “ Do you know their names ? ” 

They did not. 

“ A gentleman and a lady. Friends of Miss Lee, 
no doubt, and therefore probably English or Amer- 
ican. The fact is, Uncle Moses, Dave and Clive 
have got among some pleasant acquaintances, and 
have left the place to go with them.” 

“ But where ?” cried Uncle Moses. “ Where ? ” 

“And echo answers, 1 Where ? ’ ” said Bob. 

“ Where have they gone ? ” cried Uncle Moses, 
who was now quite beside himself with grief and 
anxiety. “ What are they thinking of ? What do 
they mean ? They can’t keep this up long. Even 


PEARS OF UNCLE MOSES. 


175 


if they want to leave me, they can’t leave me al- 
ways. They haven’t enough money to last them 
over a week at the furthest. Why haven’t they 
left some message ? 0, boys ! boys ! I tell you 

what it is, I’m afraid — I’m afraid — I’m dreadful 
afraid.” 

“ Afraid of what ? ” asked Frank. 

“ That somethin’s happened,” wailed Uncle 
Moses. “ It’s a dreadful place. I’ve been dread- 
ful afraid of Yee-nice all my life, but I never had 
an idee of how bad it was before. Why, there’s 
nothin’ but water, an’ a person can’t go three steps 
without danger of gettin’ drownded. An’ then the 
spies ! 0, dear, who knows but that this Miss Lee 

is some spy in the pay of the Council of Ten? and 
this lady and gentleman, that they speak of, who 
knows but that they are the agents of the Inquisi- 
tion ! ” 

“ Nonsense, Uncle Moses ! ” said Frank, with a 
laugh. “ They don’t have these things in Yenice 
now. This is a free country.” 

“ A' free country ! ” exclaimed Uncle Moses. “ 1 
only wish I was well out of it ; an’ when I get the 
poor lost boys back again, I know I won’t stay here 
much longer.” 

“ 0, well,” said Frank, “it’s a comfort to know 
that they are in this place. We shall find them 
soon enough, I dare say.” 

“ But how do I know that they’re in Yenice at 
all ? ” said Uncle Moses, despairingly. “ They 


176 


THE WINGED LION. 


may have taken the steamer for Jerusalem, or Jer- 
icho, or the North Pole ! ” 

Uncle Moses was greatly agitated. Frank did 
not try to argue with him. He merely persuaded 
him to go to his room and take rest. 

“ This is a good place to stop at,’ 7 said he. “ You 
lie down and try to sleep. Bob and I will go to 
the police office, and get them to make inquiries 
after David and Clive. We'll ask if they know 
anything about this Miss Lee. We'll go about the 
city, too, in the boat, and keep our eyes wide open, 
and perhaps we may find them. So you try, Un- 
cle Moses, to get a little sleep, and don’t fret your- 
self more than you can help.” 

This, however, Uncle Moses refused to do. He 
was not willing to let them go, especially when 
their journey led them into the midst of those for- 
midable powers of darkness — the Venetian police. 
Dread indeed was the necessity which lay upon 
them to make such a visit, yet since it had to be 
done, Uncle Moses determined to go with them. 

The Bureau of Police was in an edifice close by 
the Piazza of St. Mark’s ; and it is a singular thing, 
that while David and Clive were in the cathedral 
with Vernon and Gracie, the anxious Uncle Moses, 
with Frank and Bob, were at that very time in the 
police building — so near were they to a meeting. 

Their business was stated as briefly as possible. 
They explained how David and Clive had gone 
away from them, and how they had come in search 


THE HOTEL ZENO. 


177 


of them, and had finally lost them at the Hotel 
Zeno. The official, with whom they were commu- 
nicating, could “ spik Ingelis,” but was apt to make 
blunders here and there. He promised to do all 
that could be done to find them, and took down 
their address so as to communicate with them upon 
learning anything of the lost boys. 

Frank now thought of something that might be 
of assistance in the search. 

“ The people of the Hotel Zeno tell me,” said he, 
“ that the boys went away in company with a lady 
named Miss Lee.” 

The official seemed struck by this. 

“ Missa Lee,” said he, and then turned over the 
leaves of a big book before him. 

“ Missa Lee,” said he again, in a thoughtful 
voice. “ Af she been in Venezia?” 

“ Why, the boys left the Hotel Zeno along with 
her.” 

“Ah — alonga wis her. Den — she mus be in 
Verona.” 

“ Verona ! ” cried Frank, in horror. He did not 
like the idea of setting forth on a new search, and 
leaving Venice almost the moment after his ar- 
rival. 

“Si, si, Verona,” said the official. “ Dere is a 
Missa Lee in Verona. De popolo come to see 
about er. We af sent a messager after her.” 

“ 0, you’ve sent a message after her — have 
you? ” asked Frank ; “ and did she go to Verona ? ” 
12 


178 


THE WINGED LION. 


“ 0, yis, si, she go to Verona. De amico — de 
frien — came ere to af a messager sent for Missa 
Lee at Verona.” 

“ When was that ? ” asked Frank, eagerly. 

“ Yesterday.” 

“ Then she must have left yesterday, and gone 
to Verona.” 

“ 1 tink so,” said the official, solemnly. 

Now, this official was not the one with whom 
Vernon had spoken, and knew nothing at all about 
this affair ; that is, nothing more than the fact that 
the aid of the police had been asked in order to 
find a Miss Lee at Verona. Now, as this new 
party came to ask the aid of the police in a new 
search, and also mentioned Miss Lee, the official 
very naturally thought that it was the same per- 
son ; and so he judged from Frank’s story that some- 
how there was a Miss Lee who had run away from 
her friends, taking with her the two boys. 

u Dey are too young,” said the official ; u too 
young to run away, an what does she want wit 
two of dem ? ” 

At this Frank and Bob both laughed ;* but poor 
Uncle Moses looked more distressed than ever. 
There seemed no end to his troubles now. 

“ 0, nevare minda,” said the official, who noticed 
the troubled face of Uncle Moses, and seemed to 
feel pity for him ; “ nevare mind ; we sail send ar 
de messager, an we sail findar dem all. Missa 
Lee, when she come back she bring dem.” 


DISAPPOINTMENT. 


179 


11 When did you send the message to Miss Lee ? ” 
asked Frank. 

“ Dis morning.” 

“ And when do you expect to hear about her?” 

“ 0, to-day or to-morrow. It cannot be vera 
long time ; dat is, if she is in Yerona ; if not, why, 
dat is different.” 

“At any rate,” said Frank, consolingly, to Uncle 
Moses, “ at any rate they can’t be far away. Ye- 
rona is only a little beyond Padua.” 

“ 0, that’s the way it allers is,” said Uncle Mo- 
ses ; “ they’re allers ony jest a little distance off ; 
but what’s the good of that to me, when I never 
can lay my hand on them ? ” 

The official promised to do everything in his 
power to find the boys, and as there was a possi- 
bility of their being in Yenice, he promised to 
have inquiries made at the hotels and lodging- 
houses. Frank promised to come again in the even- 
ing, and then, with many thanks for the civility 
which he had shown, they took leave of the re- 
spectable official, and returned to the Hotel Zeno. 

They now persuaded Uncle Moses to lie down, 
and try to obtain some rest and sleep. Poor old 
Uncle Moses was by this time quite worn out with 
anxiety and fatigue, so that he did not seem to have 
much mind of his own about anything. He yielded 
to their persuasion, and when Frank informed him 
that he and Bob were going to look about the city, 
and suggested the possibility of meeting with the 
boys, he made no objection. 


180 


THE WINGED LION. 


Frank and Bob now went down and engaged a 
gondola. But they thought it too stupid to be 
rowed around by a dull gondolier, and it seemed 
to them to be far better fun to have the boat all to 
themselves, and go wherever the whim might guide 
them. Had Uncle Moses been present, he would 
certainly have objected to this ; but as he was not 
present, the two did as they chose. They had no dif- 
ficulty whatever in getting the exclusive use of the 
gondola, but the gondolier explained that they must 
stand up and push at the oars, and not sit down and 
pull them. For this is the custom of Venice, and 
indeed it is the only mode allowable in a populous 
city, where boats are continually passing and re- 
passing, when obstacles of every kind have to be 
guarded against, and sharp corners turned, and a 
constant lookout ahead maintained. 

They rowed away up the Grand Canal, until at 
length they came to the Rialto. Here a vast 
bridge sprang across, with one wide arch, a marvel 
of mingled beauty and strength. There was a busy 
scene, for gondolas were passing to and fro, and 
there was something like noise from the shouts 
and cries of people afloat and ashore. They waited 
for some time looking upon the scene. 

u There’s something rather pleasant in this rack- 
et,” said Bob. “ Venice seems like a graveyard, 
it’s so still. I shouldn’t like to live here, but it 
would be a nice place to die in.” 

After passing the Rialto, they rowed on a little 


A WONDERFUL CITY. 


181 


farther, when the idea occurred to them of seeing 
more of the interior of the city. So they turned 
off to the right, and went down a long, straight 
street. The houses here were much dilapidated, 
yet they showed the traces of better days ; and 
some looked as though they might have belonged 
to one of those merchant princes who formed the 
Venetian nobility. On the whole, however, the 
impression which they received was a sad one ; 
and it was with a feeling of relief that they at 
length emerged from the street, and found them- 
selves on the outskirts of the city, with a broad 
expanse of water extending before them. Here 
they rowed about for a while, and then, entering 
another street, plunged into the heart of the city. 

The streets here presented more variety. They 
saw houses of all kinds — the mean, the splendid, 
the simple, the pretentious. They passed by stately 
churches, lofty towers, ponderous walls, and busy 
squares. They went about quite at random, with- 
out caring where, and in the interest naturally 
arising from such novel scenes, they were quite 
unconscious of the lapse of time, until at length 
Frank happened to look at his watch, and found 
that it was six o’clock. 

They now sought to return home, and found 
themselves quite at a loss as to the proper course 
to take. They rowed for a while in what seemed 
the right direction, but only to find themselves 
brought up at last at a point where a number of 


182 


THE WINGED LION. 


narrow canals all united. They therefore turned 
and rowed back ; but after a time they came to 
another place just like the last. Here they stopped, 
and once more considered their situation. 

The fact is, they were utterly lost. Worse, it 
was now late, and growing later every moment. 
The boats that they met were but few in number. 
They could not see any one of whom they might 
ask the wa y. 

At last they turned in desperation, and rowed 
up a wide canal, which seemed likely to lead some- 
where. For a half an hour they went along, and 
at length, to their intense chagrin, they found 
themselves once more stopped in precisely the 
same way as before. There was now nothing else 
to do than to turn in some new direction. 

Once or twice they met a gondola, and cried out, — 
li Dov J e la Piazza di San Marco ? ” 

An answer was given, but it was in the Venetian 
dialect, and utterly incomprehensible. 

Then they asked, — 
u Dov ’e ’1 Gran Canale ? ” 

Another answer came, which was equally unin- 
telligible. 

At this time it was growing later. Darkness 
came on. Fortunately, the moon was shining, or 
else they would have been unable to go any far- 
ther. Even with the moonlight, the tall houses 
cast down heavy shadows, which made their way 
dark indeed. Had it not been for Uncle Moses, 


SAFE AT LAST. 


183 


they would have considered this as a rare adven- 
ture. If they had been alone in Venice, with only 
themselves to think of, they would have enjoyed 
the situation, and, if the worst came to the worst, 
slept in the gondola all night, in its little cabin, on 
the soft cushions. But all the time they knew that 
Uncle Moses was waiting for them in new terror, 
and in deeper anxiety than ever. 

At length they were fortunate enough to meet 
with a gondola which was disengaged. They suc- 
ceeded in making known their wants to the gondo- 
lier, who took them in tow, and brought them at 
last to the Hotel Zeno. 

It was about ten o’clock. They found poor Un- 
cle Moses half frantic with anxiety, and filling the 
hotel with his wild lamentations. He received 
them as though they had been raised from the 
dead. 


184 


THE WINGED LION. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


The early Bird catches the Worm. — Bob's early Rising , 
and what came of it. — A Bath in the Gra7id Canal. — 
The Approach of the Enemy. — Flight a7id Pursuit . — 
The Du7igeo7is of Ve7iice.' 


& RANK had promised to call at the Police 
Bureau to find out what they had learned 
during the day ; but he had forgotten all 
about this, and his careless wanderings through 
Venice had resulted in detaining him till this late 
hour. After the first joy which Uncle Moses felt 
at meeting with them again, he asked anxiously 
whether they had seen or heard anything of the 
lost ones. 

u Nothing,” said Frank. 11 1 was in hopes that 
you might have heard.” 

At this Uncle Moses plunged down once more 
into the depths of gloom. Frank, as usual, en- 
deavored to console him by trying to make him 
look on the bright side, and by promising to call 
upon the police early the next day. 

Early on the following day, at about six o’clock, 
Bob was up, teasing Frank to go and take a swim. 
This was a pastime of which Bob was very fond ; 


A BATH IN THE GRAND CANAL. 


185 


but Frank did not share his enthusiasm, and on the 
present occasion cared for nothing except his sleep. 
So he rolled over in the bed, and merely re- 
marked, — 

“ 0, bother ! ” 

Bob therefore decided to go alone ; and, setting 
forth in rather scant clothing, he went down stairs. 
The door was unlocked ; he passed out, and in a 
few moments he had divested himself of the little 
clothing which had covered him. Then he stood 
for an instant and looked at the canal beneath, and 
then raising his arms, he took a header straight into 
the turbid wave. 

Rising, he struck out and swam towards the other 
side of the canal. This he reached, and then he 
started to return. 

But when he was about half way across on his. 
homeward journey, he heard a sound which mado 
him instinctively turn his head. As he looked he 
saw a sight which filled him with a general sense of 
consternation. For he saw a boat which contained 
several men in police uniform, and these men all 
had their eyes fixed upon him ; and what was 
worst of all, the police boat was coming straight 
towards him. 

The only thing that he could do was, of course, 
to try to get back as soon as possible. And this he 
did. He struck out most vigorously. Terror lent 
him strength. He had never dreamed of anything 
illegal being in a harmless bath, but the looks of 


186 


THE WINGED LION. 


the policemen were enough to show him that his 
offence was serious. And so he struck out for dear 
life, hoping to escape. But, alas ! he was distant 
from the Hotel Zeno, and the boat was near, and it 
could move much more quickly than he. The wa- 
ter foamed around him and behind him ; yet still 
that terrible police boat kept on his track, and 
gained on him rapidly. At last, just as he reached 
the middle of the Grand Canal, he found that the 
police boat was close behind him. He struck out 
wildly, but it was of no use. The next instant the 
police boat was beside him, and a strong hand had 
seized him by the hair. 

As Bob felt the grasp of the hand on his hair, he 
tried to dive. The movement was an unexpected 
one, and thus Bob jerked himself from the clutches 
of the policeman ; then swimming under the boat, 
he came up on the other side, and again struck out 
for the hotel. He was discovered at once, and the 
boat pursued. By this manoeuvre he had gained 
but little ; still, the gain was something, and Bob 
was desperate. But the boat was close behind him, 
and once more Bob dived, and came to the surface 
in a new direction. This occurred two or three 
times ; but the police followed all the more reso- 
lutely, and Bob was out of breath with his exer- 
tions. At last, as the boat came up to him once 
more, he found himself seized ; and he was so utter- 
ly exhausted that he could not free himself. He 
had to cling to the boat for support. 


THE BATHER CAPTURED. 


187 


There were four policemen in the boat, who re- 
garded him with very stern faces. One of them 
said something to him in Italian, which, of course, 
Bob did not understand. 

“ Really/’ said he, “ I am quite mortified, but I 
don’t understand a word of what you are saying.” 

This was unintelligible to the police. They tried 
again with French, but with the same result. Then 
they spoke to him in German, but this also was a 
failure. 

“ He must be English,” they said, “ or Russian.” 

Bob’s position was now far from pleasant. While 
dashing about in the freedom of nature, he had 
found the water highly enjoyable ; but it was a far 
different thing to be floating in it, held by the hair, 
as a miserable captive. At that moment he under- 
stood perfectly the sorrows of the captured trout, 
the hooked salmon, the speared eel, or the netted 
shad. “ You might as well have a hook in your 
gills,” said he, afterwards, “ as a hand clutching 
your hair.” He was too sensible, however, and 
also too much exhausted, to make any struggle. 
He awaited the action of his captors, trusting 
that the future would afford some opportunity of 
escape. 

His captors, on their part, did not know what to 
do exactly. The lad was a foreigner, and might 
possibly be a person of importance. This thing 
might have been done through ignorance, and even 
his fierce efforts to escape seemed natural. At 


188 


THE WINGED LION. 


the same time, the police mind is slow to admit the 
justice of release when one has been arrested, and 
in Venice old associations are still powerful. 

They therefore had no idea of letting him go ; 
yet at the same time they did not know how to get 
him into the boat. He was a foreigner, and might 
be some distinguished youth. They did not want 
to run the risk of offering unnecessary insult to 
one who might be, perhaps, an English milor, or 
a Russian prince. Prince, milor, or beggar, he 
might be any one of these, for he floated there 
in the water just as nature made him, and without 
any adventitious surroundings. 

At last Bob made some signs which plainly inti- 
mated that he wished to clothe himself. He then 
pointed to the Hotel Zeno. The quick- witted Ital- 
ians, who, of all men, are perhaps the most ready 
in the comprehension of the language of gesture, 
at once caught his meaning, and were very glad 
to comply with the request ; for they did not 
care about taking away 'a naked prisoner, and be- 
sides they thought that the prisoner’s clothes would 
give some general idea of his rank in life. So the 
boat moved slowly along towards the hotel, and Bob 
moved slowly after it, looking eagerly forward in 
the hope of seeing Frank. But no one was there. 
All was still, and not a soul seemed to be stirring. 
At length they reached the place where the' steps 
ran down into the water. On the lower steps stood 
Bob, up to his waist in water, and made gestures 


BOB IN DIFFICULTY. 


189 


to signify that his clothes were up there behind the 
door. The Italians understood him, and one of 
them got out upon the steps. The sight of this 
movement filled poor Bob with dismay. He had 
hoped that he should be allowed to go after his 
clothes alone ; but the police, after having had so 
much trouble in capturing him, were by no means 
inclined to let him slip out of their hands so easily 
as that. So the one who had got out of the boat 
now took him from the hands of Bob’s first captor 
and led him to the door. 

Just inside of this were Bob’s clothes. There 
was here a spacious vestibule, and the inner door 
was shut. The officer stood grimly waiting. Bob 
looked all around. Had the inner door been open, 
he would certainly have made a rush for liberty ; 
but as it was, he saw that it was impossible. 

One hope yet remained. He tried by signs to 
induce the officer to let him go into the hotel 
and communicate with his friends. But this the 
officer positively refused. The fact is, he began to 
think that Bob was not a prince in disguise ; for 
the clothes that he put on were by no means sug- 
gestive of lofty rank or station. A pair of well- 
worn trousers and a night shirt constituted the 
simple attire in which Bob had come down to take 
his morning bath ; and as he put these on he ap- 
peared to the police like some very insignificant 
lad, with whom they might be severe in safety. 

In an American or English city the police would 


190 


THE WINGED LION. 


certainly have granted so small a favor as this 
which Bob requested; but all over the continent 
of Europe there is far more rigor in the adminis- 
tration of affairs than is known in English-speaking 
countries; and though Venice had long ago seen 
the last of the Council of Ten, and felt no more 
the stress of Austrian tyranny, still the influence 
of the past remained, and the old habit of severity 
was not laid aside. So the end of it all was, that 
Bob was carried away captive. 


ANOTHER LOST BOY. 


191 


CHAPTER XIY. 


A nother lost Boy . — Terror and Despair of Uncle Moses. — 
A wild Search. — A nother Visit to the Police . — New Dis- 
. appointment. — The End of it all. 



A^ffRANK had rolled over again in bed, and 
gone to sleep. It was later than usual 
when he awoke. After dressing, he went 
down to breakfast, and found Uncle Moses looking 
more distressed than ever. 

“ We must hurry to the police office,” said he. 
u Don’t be long over your breakfast. They must 
have heard by this time of David and Clive.” 

11 0, I’ll only be a moment,” said Frank. 

u Where’s Bob ? ” 

“ Bob ! ” repeated Frank. 

“ Yes.” 

11 Bob ! Why, he must be about somewhere. 
Hasn’t he had his breakfast yet?” 

“ Not that I know of.” 

“ Why, haven’t you seen him ? ” 

11 Seen him ? No.” 

At this Frank stared, and began to feel troubled. 
As for Uncle Moses, a look of deadly terror came 
over his face. 


192 


THE WINGED LION. 


u Where is he ? ” he gasped. 

u I don’t know,” said Frank. 

“ You must have seen him. Did you see him 
when he got up ? ” 

“ 0, yes. He ran out — to take a swim in the 
canal. He wanted — ” 

“ A swim ! ” gasped Uncle Moses. “ A swim in 
the canal ! ” 

“ Why, what of that ? ” said Frank. “ He can 
swim like a duck. He wanted me to go with him, 
but I was too sleepy.” 

Uncle Moses sank into a seat, and there seemed 
no more life left in him. 

“ A swim in the canal ! ” he murmured. “ He 
can swim ! 0, yes ; but, then, this is no place. 
Who knows — who knows but that there may be 
sharks here — sharks, or devil fishes, or cuttle 
fishes, or sea sarpints ? 0, dear, dear ! I do wish 

I was dead ! 0, Bobby, Bobby ! has it come to 

this?” 

Thus far Frank had never failed to find some 
words of comfort and consolation for Uncle Moses ; 
but now he could find nothing to say. He himself 
was troubled. It seemed, indeed, very much as if 
some accident might have happened. There was 
the one, great, dark, undeniable fact, that Bob had 
gone off early in the morning to swim in the canal, 
and had not returned. Without a word Frank 
turned away, and went back to the room to see 
if there were any signs of a return from that bath. 


TERROR OF UNCLE MOSES. 


193 


One look filled him with dismay. There in a chair 
he saw Bob’s clothes — the clothes which he usu- 
ally wore through the day. Frank remembered 
now that Bob had hastily drawn on an old pair of 
trousers, and had rushed down in his night-shirt. 
The truth was plain. He had gone out to swim, 
and had not come back. 

One thing yet remained. He must have stripped 
himself. Where were his clothes ? That would 
decide the matter. Half frantic, he rushed down 
again, and out to the door. He looked all around, 
and it was with a feeling of relief that he found no 
signs of the clothes. Then he went to the land- 
lord, and told him his fears.' Had the servants 
found any clothes lying on the edge of the canal, 
or anywhere about ? The landlord had inquiries 
made at once, but no one had seen anything of the 
sort. This was a relief to Frank ; yet, after all, it 
was only a partial one. For the thought came to 
him that Bob might have gone somevdiere else to 
take his bath, and that he wmuld not have ventured 
to undress in such a public place as this. And yet 
where could he have gone ? It was impossible to 
conjecture. What to do he knew not. He began 
to fear the worst. He knew that Bob was a good 
swimmer, but the suggestion of Uncle Moses about 
sharks was terrible, and produced an effect which 
was not to be shaken off. He was at his whts’ end. 
He did not know what to do. A terrible dread 
was in his heart. The landlord could give him no 
13 


194 


THE WINGED LION. 


consolation, for, indeed, he himself, and all the hotel 
people, who by this time had heard the news, had 
a certain solemn and awe-strnck expression on their 
faces, which showed plainly that they, too, believed 
the very worst. 

“ Yon can do nothing,” said the landlord, “ and 
we can do nothing. You must go to the police. 
They will make inquiries ; and the sooner you go 
the better.” 

It was the very thought that had already oc- 
curred to Frank, and he prepared to set forth at 
once. He hesitated for a while whether to take 
Uncle Moses, or leave him and go alone. At length 
he decided that it would be better to take Uncle 
Moses with him. When he came to his despairing 
relative with his statement, he received no answer 
except a heart-broken look, and Uncle Moses pre- 
pared in silence to accompany him. Then Frank 
informed the landlord of his intention, and begged 
him to do what he could during his absence towards 
searching after the missing boy. The landlord 
promised very earnestly to do whatever he could. 

They now took a gondola, and went to the police 
station. Neither of them could speak a word. The 
thoughts of Uncle Moses were too deep for utter- 
ance. He was beyond the reach of sympathy, nor 
did he seek for any encouragement to hope. He 
had made up his mind for the worst. As for Frank, 
he, too, dreaded the worst, and did not attempt any 
longer to console his uncle with assurances which 


AT THE POLICE STATION. 


195 


might in a short time prove altogether vain. Be- 
fore long all would be decided, and until then Frank 
could only wait in silence. 

At length they reached the Bureau of Police. 
They had to wait for some time, for no one was 
there who could speak English ; but at length the 
official returned with whom they had talked on the 
former occasion. He greeted them very civilly. 

11 0, an so you af come,” he said, “ to see about 
de young boys. I sail look, an find if de messager 
haf come.” 

He went away, and was absent for some time. 
At length he returned. . 

u I am ver sorra,” said he, “ but notings haf come 
back from de messager.” 

Frank in his deep gloom hardly expected any- 
thing else ; and so, after a short pause, he proceeded 
to state the cause of their present visit. The of- 
ficial listened most attentively. 

When Frank ceased, he shook his head. 

“ It is vera infortnat,” said he. “ Dere is dan- 
ger in de canale. I nevare go dere mysef ; dere is 
too mooch danger. Bot I sail do all I can. I sail 
senda de men to investigare immediatemente. 0, 
yes, I sail do all I can.” 

Some further conversation followed, and then 
they went back slowly and sadly to the hotel. 
They themselves could now do nothing. They 
could only wait, and hope to hear ; but even this 
hope was faint. The police would go on the search, 


196 


THE WINGED LION. 


but who could tell how long it would be before any- 
thing could be known? Indeed, their chief fear 
now was, that nothing might ever be known, and 
that Bob was lost forever. The loss of Clive and 
David was nothing to this. They had been heard 
of over and over again, but Bob had departed, and 
had left no trace. 

The long hours of the morning thus passed, and 
midday came. With midday came also a strange 
and startling message. It was from the Police 
Bureau, and informed them that a boy had that 
morning been arrested for swimming in the Grand 
Canal, and that they were requested to come and 
see if he was the one whom they sought. 

In an instant the dark cloud of anguish rolled 
away from the despairing minds of Uncle Moses 
and Frank. They understood it all. Yet they 
wondered why the official had not told them when 
they made their inquiries. Perhaps he did not 
know. That seemed the most probable conjecture. 
At any rate there was no time to be lost ; and so 
they hurried to a gondola, and before long were 
once more in the police station. There they met 
with their friend, the official, who could u spik 
Ingelis.” 

He informed them that he did not know, on their 
former visit, of the arrest of any one for swimming, 
but that since then he had learned the facts. He 
had seen the prisoner, and had recognized him. 

Upon this, Frank eagerly demanded his release. 


THE POLICE. 


197 


The official said something about a violation of 
the law, and seemed to be in a very singular state 
of hesitation. He seemed to hint at a prolonged im- 
prisonment for Bob, and said something about fines 
and money payments. As he touched upon this, he 
looked at Frank with a very peculiar expression. 

Frank’s intelligence caught at once at his mean- 
ing. In England or America he would not have 
thought it possible, but in Italy he had seen many 
things which showed him that a large number of 
the officials are not above receiving presents from 
those who wish their good offices. In this there 
was something which was very shocking to Frank’s 
sense of propriety ; but, then, too much was at 
stake for him to hesitate a moment. Bob in con- 
finement, Uncle Moses breaking his heart — these 
were dread facts which had to be faced. With a 
hurried gesture, therefore, he placed his purse in 
the hands of the official, saying, — 

u Get an advocate. Let us see him as soon as 
possible. There’s enough there to pay any ordi- 
nary fine. And couldn’t you free him first, and let 
the fine be settled afterwards ? ” 

The hands of the official closed over Frank’s 
purse with an eager grasp, which showed how 
welcome this offering was. His- face beamed with 
benevolence, and his whole manner changed from 
official formality to one of sympathy and geniality. 

11 1 sail see,” said he. “ Wait you ; I not be 
long.” 


198 


THE WINGED LION. 


He departed, and they waited. They were not 
kept long. In less than ten minutes the door 
opened, and the official returned with the aspect 
of a kind benefactor, ushering in no less a person- 
age than Bob himself. He had rather a sheepish 
look, and his somewhat scant attire made him have 
rather a disreputable appearance, but neither Uncle 
Moses nor Frank thought of that. They rushed 
upon him, and caught him in their arms, and almost 
wrung his hands off. As for Bob, he was amazed 
at these signs of feeling ; but he bore it philosophi- 
cally, and as soon as he could speak, he asked them 
if they had found Clive and David. 

“ No,” said Frank ; u we’ve forgotten all about 
Clive and David. We’ve only been thinking of 
you. And mark you, my lad ; this is the last time 
that you go in swimming.” 

“ Well, to tell the truth,” said Bob, u I think I 
shall postpone my next swim till I get home again. 
At the same time I must say it’s rather hard treat- 
ment ; and yet there are people who say that 
Italy’s a free country. I rather think that the only 
liberty Italians know is the liberties they take with 
unoffending travellers,” 

Neither Uncle Moses nor Frank felt inclined to 
talk just here ; so they hurried back with Bob as 
fast as possible to the hotel, and here they gained 
from him an account of his adventures. Of course 
the whole thing was now quite intelligible, and they 
saw that no blame could attach to poor Bob. 


RESULTS OF THE RECOVERY OF BOB. 199 


The recovery of Bob had produced one effect so 
important and so beneficial, that it made his little 
adventure seem like a very fortunate occurrence. 
That effect was produced upon Uncle Moses." Until 
then he had been sinking deeper and deeper into 
an abyss of gloom which was tending towards utter 
despair. Frank had already seen with deep con- 
cern the misery and prostration of the sorrowing 
old man, and feared that if it lasted much longer 
he would sink under his anxiety. The loss of Bob 
had been the final blow. He had scarcely been 
able to drag himself to the boat and into the police 
office. While there he had not been able to say 
one word, but had sunk into a seat, with his eyes 
staring fixedly upon the official. Then, returning 
to his hotel, he had passed the long hours of sus- 
pense like one demented. The news from the 
police had roused him ; the final visit and the 
meeting with Bob had altogether overwhelmed 
him. In that great revulsion of feeling which had 
ensued, he had passed at one bound from the 
darkest despair to the highest and most exquisite 
happiness. On gaining Bob, he seemed to have 
gained everything ; and from this he drew the 
strongest encouragement for the future. He now 
felt a calm assurance that David and Clive were 
all safe, — where, he did not know ; yet still they 
were safe, and as he had recovered Bob, so he 
should recover them. 

He was now his ancient and original self, as 


200 


THE WINGED LION. 


talkative, as amiable, and as full of resources as 
ever. 

“ My mind’s made up, boys,” said he, as they sat 
in their room after luncheon. u I ben a thinkin’ 
of it ever sence we found Bob. We must leave 
Venice.” 

“ Leave Venice!” exclaimed both the boys, in 
mournful chorus. This announcement filled them 
with disappointment and dismay. “ Leave V enice ! ” 
they repeated. 11 What ! and give up our search 
for Clive and David?” 

11 Clive and David,” said Uncle Moses, shaking 
his head ; “ they ain’t here. It’s no use a goin’ an’ 
a wastin’ time in a place like this. You know they 
ain’t here at all.” 

The boys had nothing to say to this. 

“ Besides, I can’t stay here any longer. It seems 
like a dungeon. It was bad enough at first, but 
now, sence they’ve ben an’ gone an’ arrested a in- 
nocent child like Bob, why, I can’t feel safe for a 
moment. We’ll all be arrested next, an’ if we air, 
why, we won’t get off so easy as Bob did. The 
fact is, this here city is all honeycombed with 
dungeons ; thar air spies everywhere ; the Council 
of Ten is as bad as ever, and the Inquisition is in 
full blast. I won’t stay here another day. Clive 
and David, very fortunately, are not in the place, 
an’ I’m goin’ away this very day.” 

u But where can we go ? ” asked Frank. 

u Go? Why, to Verony.” 


UNCLE MOSES’ RESOLUTION. 


201 


11 But we’ve sent messages off to Verona.” 

“ Messages ! ” exclaimed Uncle Moses. 11 Pooh ! 
I don’t believe they’ve done the first thing. An’ 
mind you, they won’t do anything till you pay ’em. 
You forgot to do that, Frank.” 

“ So I did,” said Frank. “ ’Pon my word, I do 
believe they’ve done nothing.” 

11 Of course,” said Uncle Moses. “ An’ now 
we’ve got either to pay them, or go ourselves. 
Now, I’ve made up my mind that we’ve got to go 
ourselves. Don’t say a word. Don’t oppose me. 
It’s no use. I’m bound to go. My mind’s made 
up, and go I will this very day to Verony.” 

Mild as Uncle Moses usually was, Frank knew 
perfectly well that when he had once made up his 
mind to anything, he was utterly immovable. On 
the present occasion he forbore to make any ob- 
jection. He saw also that it was perhaps the best 
thing to be done under the circumstances, and so 
both he and Bob acquiesced without a word in the 
new plan. 

About two hours after this, Uncle Moses, with 
Frank and Bob, left Venice, and soon arrived at 
Verona. 


202 


THE WINGED LION. 


CHAPTER XY. 

New Wanderings and more Stories. — The Espousals of 
the A driatic. — The Capture of Constantinople . 

t T was certainly a singular position in which our 
young friends were thrown. Here were two 
parties separated from one another, and yet 
in the same city, in one another’s vicinity, passing 
and repassing over the selfsame track, without 
either being aware of the neighborhood of the 
other. Such a thing might be barely possible in 
other cities, but in Venice it was the most natural 
thing in the world. 

On this day they came more closely than ever 
upon one another’s tracks. Bob had been arrested 
early in the morning. Then came Vernon to the 
police station with inquiries about Miss Lee. 

Scarcely had he left, when Uncle Moses and 
Frank came. Thus the two parties had been 
brought into very close proximity. Yet Uncle 
Moses and Frank, of course, had no idea of the 
facts of the case, and Clive and David were in 
equal ignorance. 

When Vernon came back from the Police Bureau, 
he was eagerly interrogated by Gracie. When he 


ANXIETY OF GRACIE. 


203 


told her that nothing had been heard, she looked 
disturbed. 

“ I’m beginning to be awfully anxious,” said she. 
“ I feel as though I ought to be doing something, 
and yet I cannot imagine what I can do. I’m 
afraid that something may have happened to poor 
dear auntie. She is so inexperienced in travel, 
and she grows so confused when anything goes 
wrong ! ” 

Yernon tried to reassure her. 

“ 0, really, now,” said he, “ you must try and 
not give way to anxiety. It’s natural, of course, for 
you to feel so ; but you must remember that we are 
doing the very best we can. The police can do 
infinitely more than we ; they have their connec- 
tions all through Italy ; they can telegraph and 
communicate in other ways with all possible places ; 
and they are sure of finding her. Besides, it is 
very probable that your aunt will seek their assist- 
ance at once.” 

“ 0, I’m sure she never will ; the very mention 
of the police is terrible to her. She is very timid. 
And that’s the worst of it. She has a horror of all 
the continental police, and would die rather than 
seek their assistance.” 

“Well,” said Yernon, “ if you feel that some- 
thing more ought to be done, I will do it. If the 
police do not bring any definite information, I’ll 
take a run to Yerona myself, and that is the hard- 
est thing in the world for me to do just now.” 


204 


THE WINGED LION. 


“ 0, I’m sure/’ said Gracie, u I don’t want you 
to put yourself to trouble for my sake, or to leave 
Venice — or to — ” 

“ Trouble ! ” said Vernon. 11 It isn’t that ; but 
you know — I, in fact — I don’t like to — to leave 
you — even for a day — and if — that is, if your aunt 
were only safe, I should like to wait at least until 
we had seen the whole of Venice. And, at any rate, 
we can wait this one day. You do not want me to 
go away to-day — do you? You will give me one 
more day — won’t you ? ” 

Vernon spoke in a tone of entreaty that seemed 
to indicate very strong emotion. As for Gracie, 
she herself seemed somewhat agitated. She stole 
a hasty look at the eloquent face of the handsome 
young artist ; then her eyes fell, and she murmured 
in a low voice, — 

“ 0, no. I should be sorry — not to have another 
day — in Venice. I only meant that — that I felt 
guilty in enjoying myself — so much — you know 
— while poor auntie was perhaps in great misery 
about me. That’s all.” 

At these words Vernon’s face grew radiant. 

“ 0, thank you — thank you,” said he. “ Then 
we shall have one more day of enjoyment, and 
you’ll come with me to-day, and we'll see as much 
as possible, and then this evening I shall go to hear 
what the police have found out. After that we 
may arrange other plans.” 

This seemed quite agreeable to Gracie. The 


THE ARSENAL OF VENICE. 


205 


assurances of Yernon seemed to quell her anxiety, 
and she gave herself up for that day to the enjoy- 
ment that might be had. 

At the usual time the boat was ready, and first 
of all they went to the Arsenal. r 

This place, once the centre and the source of the 
naval power of Venice, was now all still and silent. 
The thousands of workmen, the hundreds of gal- 
leys, the noise, the tumult, the clouds of black 
smoke from boiling pitch and glowing furnaces, 
which once made the Arsenal of Venice one of the 
wonders of the world — all these things h # ad passed 
away. The multitude of busy artisans had dwin- 
dled to a few loiterers ; the fleet had given place 
to three or four small barks ; the noise and tumult 
of vast enterprises had been succeeded by languor 
and quiet. 

Entering through the massive gateway, they 
walked around and surveyed the docks and ware- 
houses. There was but little to gratify curiosity. 
The interest of the place lay in the past. After 
making the tour of the works, they seated them- 
selves upon a bench, from which they had a view 
of the harbor, and gave themselves up to pleasant 
conversation. 

“ Isn’t there any chance/’ asked David, “ that 
Venice will again become a great naval station ? I 
should think that now, being connected with Italy, 
and free, she might be made use of, and this Ar'se- 
nal might become busier than ever.” 


206 


THE WINGED LION. 


“ 0, no,” said Vernon; “ there’s no chance of 
that. Modern warfare requires a different place. 
The enormous iron- clads of Italy cannot come 
here. The galleys of old times required but lit- 
tle water. No vessels can come here but those 
of light draught. Venice cannot be even the 
Queen of the Adriatic. Trieste now has that po- 
sition. By the by, have you ever heard of the 
espousals of the Adriatic ? ” 

“ I’ve heard of that ceremony,” said Gracie ; 
“ but I should like to know more about it. Haven’t 
you something in your manuscript that you can 
read ? ” 

At this invitation, Vernon took his manuscript, 
and read from it 

The Espousals of the Adriatic. 

Well, you know, Frederic Barbarossa, Roman 
Emperor, had been engaged in a long struggle with 
Pope Alexander. It was one of the greatest con- 
flicts on record, and the two combatants fought 
with very different weapons. For the emperor had 
all the warriors of Germany at his back, and half 
of Italy ; while the pope was armed with the ter- 
rors of superstition and the thunders of the church. 
Besides this, the pope was sustained by the valiant 
Lombard republics, who defied the utmost power 
of the emperor, and had resolved to perish from off 
the face of the earth rather than yield. The strug- 
gle was terrible. It raged through Germany and 


ESPOUSALS OF THE ADRIATIC. 


207 


Italy, but especially Italy ; and at length the pope 
became an exile and a wanderer, flying from place 
to place. In the course of these wanderings he 
came to Venice. 

There was some danger in receiving the illustri- 
ous fugitive, for Venice would thus encounter the 
wrath of the mighty emperor, who was as powerful 
on sea as on land. But the Venetians did not stop 
to count the cost. They received Pope Alexander 
with boundless respect and hospitality ; and when 
the emperor sent a demand for the surrender of 
the pope, with a denunciation of war in case of 
refusal, the Venetians sent a haughty reply, and 
prepared for war. 

The maritime power of the emperor was vast. 
He had on his side the united navies of Genoa, 
Pisa, and Ancona, which now, at his command, 
moved upon Venice, in order to attack the city, 
punish the insolent Venetians, and capture his 
mortal enemy the pope. But the Venetians did not 
wait for the arrival of the imperial fleet. They 
themselves sailed out to act on the aggressive. On 
coming in sight of it, they found it superior in 
numbers, and provided with the most formidable 
equipments. It was under the command of the 
son of the great emperor, and was regarded as in- 
vincible. It had been sent to crush Venice forever, 
and all the maritime resources of Frederic had 
been put forth in order to insure success. But 
they had quite miscalculated the strength of Ven- 


208 


THE WINGED LION. 


ice. The Venetians, whom they expected to be- 
siege, came forth, and began a fierce attack. A 
bloody struggle followed, which lasted for six or 
eight hours, and terminated in a complete victory 
for Venice. The imperial fleet was destroyed. Its 
vessels and sailors were all sunk or captured, and 
among the prisoners was the emperor’s son Otho. 
Venice was saved; the pope was saved; and in 
that victory began the downfall of Frederic. 

The fleet came back with its long train of cap- 
tured vessels, all gay with flags and streamers. 
Venice sent forth all its population to swell the 
triumphant procession, and first among those who 
went to greet the victors was the pope. No one 
knew so well as he the full meaning of this great 
victory. 

Alexander addressed the victorious doge with 
words full of joyful congratulation. Then he pre- 
sented him with a gold ring. 

11 Take this ring,” said Alexander, “ and with it 
take, on my authority, the sea, as your subject. 
Every year, on the return of this auspicious day, 
you and your successors shall proclaim to posterity 
that the right of conquest has subjugated the Adri- 
atic to Venice as a spouse to her husband.” 

The doge took the ring, and the Venetians ac- 
cepted the gift of the sea. Thenceforth for ages 
they commemorated this great event by a solemn 
ceremony. On every anniversary of this day the 
doge, with all the chief nobility, went to hear mass 


ESPOUSALS OF THE ADRIATIC. 


209 


at the Cathedral of St. Mark. Then they proceeded 
to embark in the galley which had carried the doge 
to his triumph over the imperial fleet. Blazing 
with gold, and adorned with most costly ornaments 
and richest trappings, this galley, — the Bucentaur, 
— followed by innumerable smaller craft, proceeded 
through the canals to the mouth of the harbor. 
There the doge dropped the ring into the sea, with 
these words : — 

“We wed thee with this ring, in token of our per- 
petual sovereignty.” 

The ceremony was always kept up, and was al- 
ways associated with the proudest recollections of 
Venice. Hundreds of years passed away, but the 
old Bucentaur lived on. B,epairs were constantly 
made, until, like the ship Argo, there remained not 
one of her original timbers ; yet still she was the 
Bucentaur, and as the Bucentaur she was used for 
this solemn ceremony until the Austrians came. 

“ As I said before,” said Vernon, after a while, 
“the day of Venice is over forever. She can never 
again be a great naval station, although she may 
live on, and have some moderate amount of traffic. 
Formerly it was different. The ancient galleys 
were slightly constructed, and drew but little water. 
The fleets of Venice, with which she won her great 
triumphs, and with some of which the destinies of 
the world were decided, were also composed of 
galleys of shallow draught.” 

14 


210 


THE WINGED LION. 


u Which was the greatest of all the exploits of 
Venice ?” asked Gracie. 

“ Well/’ said Vernon, “ there are two ; and the 
question lies between them. One was the capture 
of Constantinople, the other was the battle of Le- 
panto. In both of these Venice had allies. But 
it seems to me that the capture of Constantinople 
was more glorious for her, for the reason that she 
took the lead in that great exploit, and her doge, 
old Dandolo, was the hero of the war. It was dif- 
ferent with Lepanto. If you like, I will read about 
the capture of Constantinople.” 

Receiving the usual eager assent, Vernon went 
on to read 

The Capture of Constantinople. 

Venice had always been very closely connected 
with Constantinople. At first it was part of the 
Roman empire, and reverenced the emperor at 
Constantinople as supreme lord. Afterwards, as 
the city grew more powerful, the connection was 
but slight; yet still the Venetians looked upon the 
emperors of the East as the true Roman emperors, 
and considered those Germans who arrogated the 
title as barbarian pretenders. Commercial inter- 
course was constant and well sustained, and down 
to the time of the crusades the attitude of Venice 
towards the Eastern empire was, with a few ex- 
ceptions, one of respectful friendship, together with 
an acknowledgment of the supreme rank of the 
the Roman emperor who ruled in Constantinople. 


CAPTURE OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 


211 


But with the crusades came other feelings. 
These great movements caused an immense in- 
crease in the power and resources of Venice. Her 
ships were needed to convey crusaders to the East, 
and to supply them while there with provisions 
and munitions of war. Her navies were needed to 
co-operate with the soldiers of the cross against the 
common enemy. With her growing power, Venice 
became more ambitious, and, in her eager desire to 
extend her commerce, she grew to look on 'Con- 
stantinople as an obstacle in her way. At the 
same time the Eastern empire, with its ruler and 
its capital, had incurred the wrath of the Western 
warriors. Those who returned brought back end- 
less tales of the treachery of the Eastern Chris- 
tians, and all Europe came to regard them as here- 
tics, whose Christian faith was but a name, and who 
preferred plotting in the closet to fighting in the 
field. Time went on, and these feelings grew 
stronger. The church of the West and the church 
of the East parted asunder forever, with mutual 
curses. The Western Christians grew utterly es- 
tranged from their Eastern brethren, and various 
wrongs which Venetians had to undergo at Con- 
stantinople conspired with these other circum- 
stances to make Venice foremost in hostility to the 
Eastern capital ; and the policy of her rulers became 
such as made them always on the lookout for the op- 
portunity to inflict some harm upon the hated city. 

Under these circumstances a new crusade was 


212 


THE WINGED LION. 


preached', and the warriors of the cross decided to 
go by water to their destination rather than under- 
take the perils of a land journey. Of all these 
perils none were more dreaded than the passage 
across the Dardanelles, for there they would be 
dependent upon the aid of the Eastern emperor ; 
and all the West now looked upon him as a secret 
enemy, more to be feared than the sultan of the 
Turks himself. Venice, therefore, became the ren- 
dezvous for the crusaders, who gathered there in 
large numbers, while the leaders sought to make a 
bargain with the government for ships and sup- 
plies. The bargain was made, and the Venetians 
prepared a fleet for the expedition. 

When the time came for payment, however, it 
was found that the crusaders could not raise the 
money ; and although the chiefs of the expedition 
made the utmost personal sacrifices, and contrib- 
uted all that they possessed and all they could bor- 
row, still there remained a deficit of more than one 
third the required sum. The Venetians now came 
forward with a proposal. One of their colonies, 
named Zara, had recently revolted. It lay in the 
way of the expedition, and the doge offered to set 
forth at once if the crusaders would lend their as- 
sistance towards capturing Zara. This proposal 
was accepted, and the expedition set sail. 

It was a gallant sight. The whole fleet consisted 
of five hundred vessels of all sizes ; two hundred 
and fifty of these carried the troops, while seventy 


CAPTURE OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 


213 


were laden with military engines for siege opera- 
tions. Such a force as this proved irresistible to 
the people of Zara. The town was captured, and 
the crusaders began to turn their thoughts towards 
the Holy Land. 

But now, while waiting here at Zara, an event 
occurred which once more diverted the crusade 
from its proper destination, and led to a result 
never dreamed of by its original projectors. 

Some years before, the Emperor of Constantino- 
ple, Isaac Angelus, had been deposed and blinded 
by his brother Alexius. The son of the fallen em- 
peror, who was also named Alexius, was imprisoned 
for some time, but at length managed to escape, 
and fled to Italy. His brother-in-law was Philip, 
the Roman emperor, and his intention was to seek 
a home at his court in Germany. On his way there 
he was astonished at the great throngs who were 
hastening towards Venice, and by the advice of 
his friends he sent a message to the crusaders, im- 
ploring their assistance towards the deliverance of 
his father, and the recovery of the crown of the 
Eastern empire. In reply, they sent messengers, 
with the young Prince Alexius, to the Emperor 
Philip, stating that if he would assist the crusaders 
towards the recovery of the Holy Land, they would 
help the prince towards the recovery of Constan- 
tinople. 

Philip, in reply, said that he was unable to do 
anything ; but Prince Alexius made promises of the 


214 


THE WINGED LION. 


most attractive character, in order to gain tlieir 
assistance. He offered to put an end to the dis- 
union between the Greek and Latin churches, to 
bring the whole Eastern empire into submission to 
the pope, to assist them with a large army towards 
the conquest of Jerusalem, and added to this bound- 
less offers of rewards in money, and honors, and 
territory. But before he could accomplish this, it 
would be necessary for the crusaders to put him 
and his father in power, and thus the siege of Con- 
stantinople would have to precede the crusade in 
the Holy Land. 

There were vehement debates over this propo- 
sal ; but at length it was accepted, and the expedi- 
tion set sail for Constantinople, and the Prince 
Alexius, who had joined the crusaders at Zara, 
went with them. Their voyage was slow and de- 
liberate. They stopped at several places, where 
they were peaceably received, and at length came 
within sight of the great capital of the East. The 
historian of the expedition tells the feelings of 
the crusaders at the magnificent sight that burst 
upon them. “ When they contemplated,” said he, 
“ the walls and goodly towers that enclosed it 
around, the gay palaces and glittering churches 
that seemed innumerable, the immense dimensions 
of the city, denoting that it was the Queen of the 
Earth, they could hardly believe their senses ; nor 
was there any man, however bold, whose heart did 
not tremble within him. This was no marvel, for 


CAPTURE OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 


215 


never since the creation of the world had such an 
enterprise been attempted by such a handful of 
men.” 

But the Eastern empire had fallen upon evil 
days. A few years before, when the Emperor 
Manuel was reigning, such an expedition as this 
would have been beaten back on its first appear- 
ance, and pursued to wreck and ruin. For in those 
days the dock-yards of Constantinople could turn 
out sixteen hundred ships of war, and the Greeks 
were rulers of all the Eastern waters. But the 
present emperor was attentive to nothing except 
pleasure and personal indulgence ; the care of af- 
fairs was handed over to corrupt officials ; the fleet 
had gone to decay ; the army was almost extinct ; 
and even though ample notice had been given of 
the approach of the crusaders, still such was the 
general mismanagement, that no preparations had 
been made to oppose them, and the capital of the 
East lay exposed to their attack, itself almost de- 
fenceless. The only defence against the hostile 
fleet was a stout chain, which had been stretched 
across the harbor, behind which were twenty gal- 
leys, all that remained of the mighty navy of the 
Eastern empire. To such an extreme of weakness 
had the capital been reduced by the misgovern- 
ment of Alexius. 

Ten days were taken up in preparations, after 
which the fleet of the crusaders bore down upon 
the chain. For a time it withstood the assault ; but 


216 


THE WINGED LION. 


at last, one vessel of immense size, bearing down 
with all its force, succeeded in breaking the cable. 
The whole crusading navy followed, and the twenty 
galleys inside were all destroyed or captured. 

Having thus forced their way into the harbor, 
they waited a few days longer in order to decide 
about the best mode of attack. It was at length 
resolved to make a combined assault by sea and 
land, the Venetian warriors fighting from their gal- 
leys, and the crusaders on the land. The prepara- 
tions for the attack were very extensive, and many 
days were taken up in landing the troops, in pre- 
paring the engines, and in making the galleys 
ready for an assault from the sea side. The prep- 
arations of the crusaders were rather simple, for 
they trusted more to personal valor than to military 
machines; but the Venetians, who trusted to both, 
made far more elaborate arrangements. The gal- 
leys were filled with warlike engines, adapted to 
hurl every variety of missile weapons into the city. 
They were covered with raw hides, so as to be 
protected from the terrible Greek fire ; and they 
had suspended rope-ladders from their yard-arms, 
by means of which they could let themselves down 
upon the walls. These yards, with their rope- 
ladders, acted like draw-bridges, and let down 
the Venetians upon the heads of the astonished 
Greeks. 

Their galleys, arranged in a single line, which 
extended for nearly the whole length of the city 


CAPTURE OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 


217 


wall, sailed in close, discharging clouds of arrows, 
and stones, and other missiles. The galleys came 
up close to the walls, where the Greeks fought with 
much spirit, and poured torrents of Greek fire upon 
them. But the precautions taken were success- 
ful, and not much harm was done in this way. The 
yards were lowered, and the Venetians sought to 
descend. For a long time, however, they were 
slain as they came near the wall, until it seemed 
impossible to obtain a footing, and the Venetians, 
discouraged, began to relax their efforts. 

And now it was that one hero came forward, and 
by a single act of valor changed the fortune of the 
day, and won for himself immortal glory. This 
hero was not an ardent youth, with all his future 
before him, eager to win name and fame by one 
bold stroke. It was the highest citizen of Venice, 
one who had distinguished himself by a long life 
of noble deeds, and might now have chosen to rest 
on his laurels. But though over eighty years of 
age, and blind also, the enthusiastic valor of the 
Doge Dandolo, which had impelled him to lead this 
expedition, now raised him to the foremost place 
of danger and of honor. Standing upon the prow 
of his galley, he had learned the progress of the 
fight ; and now, when his forces were wavering, he 
ordered his men to run the galley ashore. Then, 
holding the banner of St. Mark, he leaped out, and 
was first upon the land. His men rushed after him 
to sustain him. The other galleys, who had seen 


218 


THE WINGED LION. 


this, did the same, and the whole host of Venetian 
warriors, impelled by the example of the doge, 
rushed anew to the assault, this time with such fury 
that the Greeks were driven out, and the whole 
line of sea-wall, with twenty-five towers, was 
seized and occupied. 

The crusaders had fared differently. The attack 
which they made on the land side had been repelled, 
and the Greeks in vast numbers rushed out to take 
the offensive. The crusaders were compelled to 
take refuge behind their intrenehments, and in this 
position they sent to Dandolo, begging for assist- 
ance. In this emergency, if the emperor had been 
animated by any manly spirit, he could have over- 
whelmed the crusading host ; but the same weak- 
ness that had made the capital defenceless against 
the hostile fleet, now made him falter before a de- 
termined foe. He sounded a retreat, and led his 
forces back to the city. 

Yet still the peril of the crusaders was great ; 
and the Venetians, though they held the wall, had 
to look forward to fierce attacks from superior 
numbers. 11 But behold,” says the chronicler of 
this expedition, u the miracle of the Lord ! ” Dur- 
ing the night an event took place which decided 
the contest. This was the flight of the co^vardly 
emperor, who, hastily collecting what treasure he 
could, had embarked with his family on board a 
swift galley, and fled. No sooner had this become 
known, than the friends of the deposed emperor, 


CAPTURE OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 


219 


Isaac Angelus, went to restore him to his throne. 
He was awakened at midnight, and in these mes- 
sengers the blind old man probably suspected at 
first the officers who were sent to take him to an 
ignominious death. But they came to bring him 
to life and honor ; and after eight long years of 
miserable captivity, he was again clothed in the 
imperial robes, led by the hand to the palace, seated 
upon his former throne, and once more saluted as 
Roman emperor. 

11 This sounds like a very good ending to my 
story ; but unfortunately it was only the beginning 
of the end. For the miseries of the aged Isaac in 
captivity were as nothing compared with those that 
yet lay before him. The wild promises of his son, 
the Prince Alexius, could never be fulfilled. Their 
very mention excited fearful commotion among the 
Greeks ; their non-fulfilment roused the crusaders 
to rage and vengeance ; then arose rebellions ; the 
Prince Alexius was murdered ; the Emperor Isaac 
died of a broken heart ; the crusaders flung them- 
selves once more upon the city. Once more they 
were successful. Constantinople was taken and 
given up to pillage and to flame, and the Eastern 
Roman empire was divided among the conquerors. 

u And so my story ends.” 


220 


THE WINGED LION. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


Up the Grand Canal. - 
lad of Shy lock. 


The Rialto. — The old original Bal- 
- The Conspiracy of Thicpolo . 



EAVLNG the Arsenal, they proceeded up the 
Grand Canal, and at length came to that 
great bridge, the most celebrated in exist- 
ence, known as the Bridge of the Rialto. They 
landed here and walked across it. It is one hun- 
dred and eighty-seven feet in length, and nearly 
fifty in width, while on each side are small shops. 
It crosses the canal by a single arch, which was once 
regarded as one of the wonders of the world. But 
the span of this bridge has since then been sur- 
passed, and in vastness also the Rialto Bridge has 
been left far behind by the gigantic structures of 
the age of railroads. 

In some things, however, the Rialto Bridge can 
never be surpassed. In the first place, its beauty 
must always be pre-eminent ; then, again, its situa- 
tion is unique ; and not till another Venice arises out 
of the sea can another bridge be made which shall 
rival this. But above all, there is the charm of old 
associations which throws around this bridge un- 
ending glory. Around this as a common centre 


THE RIALTO. 


221 


revolves all the history of Venice ; it is also the 
centre of a thousand legends ; above all, it has re- 
ceived immortality from Shakespeare’s mighty 
hand. Here before the mind many a form arises, 
and chief among them must ever be the Mer- 
chant of Venice, with his friends and his relent- 
less enemy, Shylock. 

Shylock. — What news on the Rialto ? Who is he 
comes here ? 

Bassanio. — This is Signor Antonio. 

With the very sight of the Rialto, these words 
come to the mind, and with these words there 
arises before the mind the whole of that wondrous 
and varied story. 

It was of this that Vernon and his companions 
had most to say ; and Vernon, who was an ardent 
admirer of Shakespeare, had a hundred things to 
tell them which threw fresh light on the familiar 
play. Among other things, he spoke of an old bal- 
lad, which must have been familiar to Shakespeare, 
and supplied him with some of the incidents of the 
play. He had it copied out in his manuscript, and 
it bore a quaint title. 

11 A new song showing the crueltie of Gernutus , 
a Jew , who, lending to a Mar chant a hundred 
Cr ozones, would have a pound of his Flesh , because 
he could not pay him at the day appoynted. To the 
tune of Black and Yellow,” 


222 


THE WINGED LION. 


The First Part. 

In Venice town, not long ago, 

A cruel Jew did dwell, 

Who lived all on Usurie, 

As Italian writers tell. 

Gernutus called was the Jew 
Which never thought to die, 

Nor never yet did any good 
To them in streets that lie. 

His life was like a Barrow Hog 
That liveth many a day, 

Yet never once doth any good 
Until men will him slay ; 

Or like a filthy heap of dung 
That lieth in a hoard, 

Which never can do any good 
Till it be spread abroad. 

So fares it with the Usurer ; 

He cannot sleep in rest, 

For fear the thief will him pursue 
To pluck him from his nest. 

His heart doth think on many a wile 
How to deceive the poor ; 

His mouth is always full of muck, 

Yet still he gapes for more. 

His wife must lend a shilling 
For every week a penny, 

Yet bring a pledge that’s double worth, 
If that you will have any. 


AN OLD BALLAD. 


223 


And see likewise you keep your day, 

Or else you lose it all ; 

This was the living of the wife ; 

Her cow she did it call. 

Within that city dwelt that time 
A merchant of great fame, 

Which, being distressed in his need, 

Unto Gernutus came, 

Desiring him to stand his friend 
For twelvemonth and a day, 

To lend to him a hundred crowns, 

And he for it would pay 

Whatsoever he would demand of him, 

And pledges he should have. 

“ No,” quoth the Jew, with flearing looks — 
“ Sir, ask what you will have. 

“No penny for the loan of it 
For one year you shall pay ; 

You may do me as good a turn 
Before my dying day : 

“ But we will have a merry jest 
For to be talked long ; 

You shall make me a bond, quoth he, 

That shall be large and strong. 

“ And this shall be the forfeiture : 

Of your own flesh a pound ; 

If you agree, make you the bond, 

And here is a hundred crowns.” 

“ With right good will,” the merchant said; 
And so the bond was made, 

When twelve months and a day drew on 
That back it should be paid. 


224 


THE WINGED LION. 


The merchant’s ships were all at sea, 

And money came not in ; 

Which way to take, or what to do, 

To think he doth begin. 

And to Gernutus straight he comes 
With cap and bended knee, 

And said to him, “ Of courtesy, 

I pray you bear with me.” 

“ With all my heart,” Gernutus said; 

“ Command it to your mind ; 

In things of bigger weight than this 
You shall me ready find.” 

He goes his way; the day once past 
Gernutus doth not slack 

To get a sergeant presently 
And clapped him on the back ; 

And laid him into prison strong, 

And sued his bond withal, 

And when the judgment day was come 
For judgment he did call. 

The merchant’s friends came thither fast 
With many a weeping eye, 

For other means he could not find, 

But he that day must die. 


11 The second part of the Jewess crueltie, setting 
forth the mercifulnesse of the Judge towardes the 
Mar chant. To the tune of Blache and Yellow.” 

Some offered for his hundred crowns 
Five hundred for to pay, 

And some a thousand, two, or three, 

Yet still he did deny. 


AN OLD BALLAD. 


225 


And at the last ten thousand crowns 
They offered, him to save ; 

Gernutus said, “ I will not gold, 

My forfeit I will have. 

“A pound of flesh is my desire, 

And that shall be my hire.” 

Then said the judge, “Yet, good my friend, 
Let me of you desire 

“ To take the flesh from such a place 
As yet you let him live ; 

Do so, and lo an hundred crowns 
To thee here will I give.” 

“ No, no,” quoth he, “ no judgment here, 
For this it shall be tried ; 

For I will have my pound of flesh 
From under his right side.” 

It grieved all the company 
His cruelty to see, 

For neither friend nor foe could help 
But he must spoiled be. 

The bloody Jew now ready is 
With whetted blade in hand, 

To spill the blood of innocent 
By forfeit of his bond. 

And as he was about to strike 
In him the deadly blow, 

“ Stay,” quoth the judge, “ thy cruelty, — 
I charge tliee to do so. 

“ Since needs thou wilt thy forfeit have, 
Which is of flesh a pound, 

See that thou shed no drop of blood, 

Nor yet the man confound. 

15 


226 


THE WINGED LION. 


“ For if thou do, like murderer 
Thou here shalt hanged be ; 

Likewise of flesh, see that thou cut 
No more than Tongs to thee ; 

“ For if thou take either more or less, 

To the value of a mite, 

Thou shalt be hanged presently, 

As is both law and right.” 

Gernutus now wax’d frantic mad, 

And wot not what to say. 

Quoth he at last, “Ten thousand crowns 
I will that he shall pay. 

“ And so I grant to set him free.” 

The judge doth answer make, 

“You shall not have a penny given, — 

Your forfeiture now take.” 

And at the last he doth demand 
But for to have his own. 

“ No,” quoth the judge, “ do as you list, 

Thy judgment shall be shown. 

“ Either take your pound of flesh,” quoth he, 
“ Or cancel me your bond.” 

“ O, cruel judge,” then quoth the Jew, 
“That doth against me stand.” 

And so with griping, grieved mind, 

He biddeth them farewell, 

And all the people praised the Lord 
That ever this heard tell. 

Good people that do hear this song, 

For truth I dare well say, 

That many a wretch as ill as he 
Doth live now at this day, 


AN OLD BALLAD. 


227 


That seeketh nothing hut the spoil 
Of many a wealthy man, 

And for to trap the innocent 
Deviseth what they can. 

From whom the Lord deliver me, 
And many a Christian, too, 

And send to them like sentence eke 
That meaneth so to do. 


“What do yon think of the old ballad ?” asked 
Vernon, as he ended. 

“ I think,” said Gracie, in a candid tone, “ that it 
is sad doggerel.” 

“ Yes,” said Vernon, “ so it is ; but then it is in- 
teresting, after all, for it shows how Shakespeare 
made up his play.” 

“ I thought,” said Clive, “ that he invented it 

all.” 

“ No,” said Vernon; “ he never made up any of 
his plays in that way. He always took some story 
such as this, and in that way made his play. He 
showed his inventive power in transforming a dull 
and prosaic narrative to a play where all the char- 
acters are endowed with life and action, so that 
they live in our memories always, and we cannot 
help thinking of them as though they were real 
persons. To most people Shylock is as real a char- 
acter as Carlo Zeno, or Faliero, or old Dandolo.” 

“ I should think so,” said Gracie ; “ for how many 
people do you suppose know anything about those 
others ? ” 


228 


THE WINGED LION. 


“ Well, then,” said Yernon, “ as real as Alexan- 
der the Great, or Julius Caesar, or Napoleon Bona- 
parte.” 

“ But in the ballad,” said David, “ no mention is 
made of Portia or the caskets.” 

“ No,” said Yernon; “that was all taken from 
another story.” 

“ Another story ? Why couldn’t Shakespeare 
have invented that ? ” 

“Certainly he could,” said Yernon; “but he 
didn’t. He took these stories, and used them as 
foundations. That doesn’t make his plays any the 
worse — does it ? ” 

“Well, no, I suppose not,” said David; “but it 
seems as though it takes something away from his 
genius.” 

“Not at all,” said Yernon. “If it wasn’t for 
Shakespeare, no one would attach any importance 
to these tales and ballads. No one else had his 
power. He stood alone — a mighty magician ; and, 
as Dryden says, — 

‘ Within that circle none durst walk but he.’ 

As to the story of the caskets, that is found in a 
collection of tales, very popular in old times, called 
the Gesta Bomanorum.” 

“ I remember,” said Clive. “ I have the book, 
translated, of course. The stories are full of all 
sorts of marvels. They’re not to be compared to 
the Arabian Nights.” 


THE CONSPIRACY OF THIEPOLO. 


229 


“0, no,” said Yernon; “ of course not. Few 
people can take any interest now in the Gesta Ro- 
manorum; but the Arabian Nights are as popular 
with us as they ever were with the Arabians them- 
selves, and are far better known in London, Paris, 
and New York, than they are in Cairo, Constanti- 
nople, or Teheran.” 

“ I have something else in my manuscript,” said 
Yernon, after a pause, “ that is connected with the 
Rialto, and if you like I will read it. It is about a 
famous conspiracy, which had very important re- 
sults.” 

“ Read it, by all means,” said Gracie. 

So Yernon went on to read 

The Conspiracy of Thiepolo. 

Yenice was often threatened by dangers from 
without; but in the year 1310 a danger arose from 
within which produced greater effects than all of 
the others. These effects consisted in a complete 
change in the constitution, and the adoption of 
a new order of things, by which the old popular 
freedom perished utterly, and the once free re- 
public became cursed with a tyranny which ulti- 
mately became a dark Reign of Terror, and by its 
prolonged duration and awful power made the very 
name of the state synonymous with all that is most 
detestable to human nature. Other revolutions 
have taken place in proud republics, by which 
their liberties have been subverted ; but never has 


f 


230 


THE WINGED LION. 


there been any change so miserable as that by 
which Venice passed from its ancient government 
to the mysterious and terrible domination of the 
Council of Ten. 

The rule of the Doge Gradenigo had been marked 
by misfortunes of no common kind ; and to crown 
all, a quarrel with the pope had resulted in an in- 
terdict which weighed heavily on all classes of the 
people. The nobles had certainly less cause for 
discontent than any others ; but on this occasion it 
was from this very class that the movement arose 
which aimed at nothing less than the overthrow of 
the government and a complete revolution in the 
state. 

It was set on foot by one Thiepolo, a noble, who 
belonged to one of the chief families, and among 
whose ancestors had been several doges. His own 
aim was one of ambition. He thought the ducal 
dignity his own due, and succeeded in associating 
with himself several other nobles, who hoped in this 
way to further their own ambitious designs. The 
movement spread rapidly. It was ably planned; 
the secret, though involving so many, was carefully 
kept: and so widely extended were the connec- 
tions of this conspiracy, that arrangements were 
made for assistance from Padua. The insurgents 
in the city, who themselves were very numerous, 
were to be aided by a large force from the latter 
place, and the 16th of June was fixed upon as the 
day for the rising. 


THE CONSPIRACY OF THIEPOLO. 


231 


But though the movement had not been betrayed, 
it had, nevertheless, been noticed and suspected. 
The keen eyes of the doge had marked the gath- 
erings and other movements of bands of men who 
seemed bent upon some unusual purpose. This 
he communicated to the Council, who at once took 
the alarm, and proceeded in all haste to guard 
against the danger that threatened. Armed men 
were, therefore, stationed at various points, espe- 
cially at the Arsenal and at the Piazza of St. Mark ; 
and on the very night before the rising all these 
precautionary measures were completed. 

The appointed morning came. It was stormy. 
The rain poured down in torrents, and the wind 
blew a gale. All this was regarded by the insur- 
gents as favorable. The arrangements had all been 
made, and various bands had received instructions 
to seize different posts in the city. The place 
which was to be assailed by Thiepolo was the 
Rialto. His part was accomplished with complete 
success. There was no resistance. The bridge 
was taken and occupied, and the surrounding dis- 
tricts Avere strongly fortified. 

Far different, however, was the fate of the others. 
The chief attack, after that of Thiepolo, was made 
upon the Piazza of St. Mark. But no sooner had 
they reached the place than, to their amazement, 
they found it occupied by superior forces. A fierce 
fight ensued. The insurgents, instead of fighting 
for victory, were compelled to fight for liberty and. 


232 


THE WINGED LION. 


life. The thought that they had been betrayed 
utterly demoralized them. Those who were able 
to fly did so at once, and the rest, after a brief 
struggle, were captured. 

From these fugitives Thiepolo learned the news, 
and at once perceived that all was lost. He only 
sought now for his own safety. Seizing a boat, he 
set out for the main land, and succeeded in effect- 
ing his escape, while his followers, now deprived 
of a leader, dispersed in all directions. 

Such was the conspiracy of Thiepolo — an event 
which, in itself, would be but of slight importance 
among the immense movements of Venetian his- 
tory, but which, from its important consequences, 
must be considered as holding a foremost place 
among them. 

The feeling of the government seems to have 
been one of utter consternation. All felt the ne- 
cessity of guarding against the possibility of 
another attempt like this. Rome, in one of her 
periods of trouble, appointed a supreme ruler called 
a Dictator. Venice now did the same, with the im- 
portant difference that instead of one dictator there 
were ten. Absolute power was given to them for 
punishing the rebels, and for devising, means of 
guarding against a repetition of such a plot. The 
new Council was invested with perfect sovereignty 
over all in the state, and freedom from all respon- 
sibility. At first they were appointed for ten days. 
This period was then extended six times ; then it 


THE CONSPIRACY OF THIEPOLO. 


233 


was prolonged to a year ; then to five years ; then 
to ten ; and finally it was made permanent. For 
from the very first the Council of Ten had begun 
to rule by mystery and terror ; and so effective was 
the machinery which they organized, that they at 
length placed their power on an immovable basis. 


234 


THE WINGED LION. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

The outer Sea. — A distant View of Venice. — The Brides 
of Ve?iice. — The Story of the War of Chiozza. 

t HILE Vernon had been reading these 
stories, the gondola had been moving 
along the Grand Canal, and by the time 
that he had finished, it had come out into the open 
sea. They looked out and saw a wide extent of 
water, with here and there an island, upon which 
were houses and churches. These islands lay sep- 
arated from Venice, and were inhabited chiefly by 
the lower orders. They formed what may be called 
the suburbs of Venice. 

The boat passed along the outskirts of the city, 
at some distance, from which they could see to the 
best advantage the wonderful appearance of Venice 
as it lay before them, with the waters encompassing 
it on every side, rising out of the sea abruptly — 
a marvellous, an unequalled spectacle. 

11 1 am thinking/ 7 said Gracie, after a long pause 
of silent admiration, “ of some poetry which is far 
prettier than your old ballad. 77 

“ What is it ? 77 asked Vernon, eagerly. 11 Say it. 77 
“ 0, it 7 s familiar enough to all of you. It’s Byron’s 


verses. 


RECITATION FROM CHILDE HAROLD. 


235 


“ Say it, at any rate,” said Vernon. “ I should 
love to hear you.” 

Gracie threw a pretty little look at him, half 
embarrassment and half consent, after which she 
recited some verses : — 

“ I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs, 

A palace and a prison on each hand : 

I saw from out the waves her structures rise 
As from the stroke of an enchanter’s wand. 

A thousand years their cloudy wings expand 
Around me, and a dying glory smiles 
O’er the far times, when many a subject land 
Looked to the Winged Lion’s marble piles, 

Where Venice sat in state, throned on her hundred isles. 

“She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, 

Rising with her tiara of proud towers 
At airy distance with majestic motion, 

A ruler of the waters and their powers ; 

And such she was ; her daughters had their dowers 
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East 
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers. 

In purple was she robed, and of her feast 
Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.” 

Gracie said these verses with deep feeling and 
fine emphasis. Her voice was sweet and musical, 
and all listened in deep silence. 

11 1 wish,” said Vernon, u that you could go on 
and say the whole canto. I can only express my 
feelings by quoting Milton : — 

1 The angel ended, and in Adam’s ear 
So charming left his voice, that he a while 
Thought him still speaking, still stood fixed to hear.’ ” 


236 


THE WINGED LION. 


u Nonsense ! ” said Gracie, with a blush and a 
smile. “ But, Mr. Vernon, haven’t you something 
more to read ? ” 

Vernon drew forth his manuscript, and said, — 
u 0, well, if you wish it.” 

“ Wish it ? Most certainly we do.” 

And so Vernon began to read the story of 

The Brides of Venice. 

Once upon a time, he began, it was the fashion 
among the Venetian aristocracy to celebrate their 
marriages on the eve of the Festival of the Purifi- 
cation of the Virgin. Of course marriages took 
place on other occasions also ; but this was the 
favorite time, and also the most fashionable, so 
that there were always a number of weddings to 
be celebrated at once. The ceremonies always 
took place at Olivolo, which lies at the extreme 
end of the city, towards the east. 

It was one of the greatest days in the year. All 
the friends of the bridal pairs would assemble, ar- 
rayed in their festive attire, and a large crowd of 
gondolas had to be collected, so as to convey the 
party to the place and back. Decorated with gay 
streamers, the little fleet used to pass through the 
city to the sound of lively music, followed by great 
numbers of spectators in other boats ; and in this 
way they approached their destination. To this 
place the friends of the bridal pairs also would 
bring their bridal presents, which, being very 


THE BRIDES OF VENICE. 


237 


numerous and costly, represented in the aggre- 
gate a large sum of money. It was this great 
prize which led to a daring attempt on the part of 
some ruffians from Istria. 

Hearing of this ceremony and of the presents, 
the idea occurred to them of making a bold attempt 
to seize the wedding gifts. It was carried out very 
craftily and successfully. Coming to Venice in their 
ships, they landed in disguise at Olivolo, and con- 
cealed themselves there until the time of the cere- 
mony. No one suspected danger. No one had 
come provided with arms, nor were there any 
guards of any kind about. 

The ceremony began and went on, when sud- 
denly, in the midst of it, with a wild, fierce shout, 
the Istrian brigands burst into the midst of the as- 
sembly. In an instant they had seized all the jew- 
els and bridal presents. But already another idea 
had occurred to the ruffians ; and this was, to seize 
the brides also. They would be a prize of far more 
value than gems or gold. Belonging to the noblest 
families of Venice, they could command a ransom 
of untold wealth. It was for this that the brigands 
seized them, and bore them away shrieking and 
fainting from their despairing friends. They then 
rowed to their ship, boarded it, and fled across 
the sea. 

But there was no time for despair. The be- 
reaved friends hurried back to the city. The 
doge summoned the citizens to arms. In a short 


238 


THE WINGED LION. 


time the waters were covered with a fleet of fierce 
pursuers, hurrying on the track of the brigands. 
First in the pursuit was a ship manned by the 
bridegrooms, who, with hearts almost bursting 
with fury and despair, had seized the swiftest 
galley in port, had set out first, and were now 
driving her through the water. 

Far away they could see the ship that held their 
precious treasures — their brides. Had the brig- 
ands known better the intricate channels that 
surround the city, they could have effected their 
purpose. But they had become bewildered in one 
of the canals, and their pursuers gained rapidly on 
them, and at length reached them. 

In the first fury of the attack, love was forgot- 
ten, and there was no thought of anything but ven- 
geance. The brigands resisted obstinately ; but such 
was the frenzy of the bridegrooms, that their resist- 
ance proved unavailing ; and the whole band were 
slaughtered and thrown into the sea. When the 
rest of the Venetian fleet came up, all was over, and 
nothing now remained but to lead back the brides 
in triumph. They all returned to Olivolo. The 
ceremony was continued from the point at which 
it had been broken off, and the rescued brides were 
at last united to those whom thej T thought they had 
lost forever. 

Venice is a great place for keeping alive the 
memories of past events ; and among its various 
festivals the commemoration of the rescue of the 


THE BRIDES OF VENICE. 


239 


brides always held a high place. Every year 
afterwards, on the anniversary of this day, various 
games and festivals took place, chief among which 
was a procession of Venetian ladies to the Church 
of Santa Maria Formosa, which is the church at 
Olivolo. Here also the doge came with another 
stately procession, and on landing, went through 
certain ceremonies which were designed to com- 
memorate the events of that momentous day. 

11 1 like early Venetian history,” said Gracie, 
“ ever so much better than later. It’s not so 
dark or dreadful.” 

“ It’s more cheerful,” said Vernon. “ The state 
was free, and there was no Council of Ten, no 
spies, no secrecy, no horrors to make the blood 
run cold.” 

il At any rate,” said David, “the history of Venice 
under the Council of Ten is more exciting. Don’t 
you think so, Mr. Vernon ? Think of the long list 
of harrowing tales that have made Venice famous. 
Shylock and Othello belong to the later period.” 

“ Yes, and Otway’s Venice Preserved,” said 
Clive. 

“ And Schiller’s Ghost Seer,” said David. 

“ And some of Mrs. Radcliffe’s, and Abellino, the 
Bravo of Venice.” 

Vernon laughed. 

11 0, go on, youngsters,” said he. “ When it 
comes to Abellino, I give up. I dare say you are 
better up in that work than I am.” 


240 


THE WINGED LION. 


u It seems to me,” said Gracie, u that the Vene- 
tians were always rather politic and cautious than 
heroic. Is there anything in their history that 
shows them reduced to extrenjity like the Athe- 
nians with the Persian in their city ? or like the 
Romans after Cannse ? or like the Dutch at Ley- 
den ? or the French after Agincourt ? I don’t like 
people that are always cool and prudent. Now, if 
there is anything that shows us Venice in a more 
heroic mood, I should like to hear it.” 

“ I think I can find something of that sort,” said 
Vernon, turning over the leaves of his manuscript. 
“ This will be different from anything that I have 
read thus far.” 

And with this he began to read 

The War of Chiozza. 

The year 1379 saw the darkest days in all the 
history of Venice, from her first beginning until 
her final fall. War had been raging with Genoa. 
The Lord of Padua, the bitterest enemy of Venice, 
was in league with the Genoese. The Venetian 
fleet under Admiral Pisani had been defeated at 
Pola. All the rest of her ships of war were far 
away, under the command of Carlo Zeno, and noth- 
ing was left in the city to maintain her honor upon 
the Adriatic. In the midst of all this, her enemies 
hastened to take advantage of her distress, and 
began a combined movement upon Venice, which 
they hoped would efface her from the list of 
nations. 


THE WAR OF CHIOZZA. 


241 


When they heard of the approach of the enemy, 
the Venetians hastened to complete all possible 
measures for defence. All the principal channels 
that led to the city were blockaded by means of 
piles or sunken ships ; the outposts were fortified 
and strengthened ; most of all, they sought to 
strengthen the outlying post of Chiozza, which 
was the key to the harbor, and the possession of 
which would inevitably be the object of the first 
and fiercest struggle. Of the importance of this 
post the Genoese were as well aware as the Vene- 
tians ; and therefore it was upon this that they 
made their first attack. The struggle that fol- 
lowed was a bloody one ; the Genoese fighting for 
victory, the Venetians for self-preservation. But 
the defenders were far outnumbered ; and at last 
Chiozza, upon which so much depended, was torn 
from their grasp, its defenders perished, and the 
news of this great calamity, when it was made 
known to the Venetian, seemed to tell them that 
all was lost. 

A panic spread through the city. The people 
assembled in despairing crowds in the Grand 
Piazza, awaiting in silence the action of the 
government. The Grand Council in session were 
in no less despair. The usual calmness and forti- 
tude which had distinguished the Venetian govern- 
ment now disappeared, and they could think of no 
other course of action than a humble petition for 
peace on any terms. An embassy was sent to the 
16 


242 


THE WINGED LION. 


enemy, taking with them some Genoese prisoners 
of eminent rank, who were freed without ransom, 
and also a sheet of blank paper, which was to be 
filled up by the enemy with any conditions which 
they thought proper. The only proviso which the 
ambassadors were charged to make was, that Venice 
should remain independent. 

On the reception of this embassy, the Lord of 
Padua would have been satisfied with this sub- 
mission of Venice on his own terms, and would 
have been willing to concede the independence 
of the state ; but the Genoese Admiral Doria, ani- 
mated by all the jealous hate of his country, was 
determined upon a far deeper vengeance. 

“ Take back your captives,” said he, alluding to 
the Genoese who had accompanied the embassy. 
u Ere many hours I shall deliver both them and 
all their comrades. By God above, ye signors of 
Venice, you must expect no peace either from the 
Lord of Padua, or from our republic, till we our- 
selves have bridled the horses of your St. Mark. 
Place but the reins once in our hands, and we shall 
know how to keep them quiet for the future.” 

This reply plunged the Venetians into deeper 
despair. The Council remained in session, the peo- 
ple gathered around, and nothing now appeared 
before them except a hopeless resistance, which 
could only terminate in the ruin of the state. In 
this dark hour the people thought of Pisani. This 
great man, the popular idol, had until recently 


THE WAR OF CHIOZZA. 


243 


been the chief admiral of the Venetian navy, but 
his defeat at Pola had led to his humiliation and 
imprisonment. The people could now think of no 
other so capable as he to rescue the state from its 
peril. Their doge was in despair, their Council 
was helpless. There was no one who could say 
what was yet to be done, or direct all that living 
mass of fiery valor, which, without a leader, was so 
helpless. And so there went forth a universal cry 
for Pisani, which could not be resisted. The Coun- 
cil and the doge were glad enough to yield, and 
sacrifice their dignity and their jealousy for the 
safety of the commonwealth. The prison doors 
were thrown open : Pisani came forth, and once 
more found himself the leader of the Venetians ; 
but this time it was in the darkest hour of her 
despair, and he himself was the last hope of his 
country. 

Pisani showed no resentment for his wrongs, but 
with self-sacrificing patriotism at once devoted 
himself to the work of rescuing the state from 
its danger. All Venice felt the influence of his 
genius. His spirit was visible everywhere. Every 
man was put to work. The approaches to the 
city were strengthened with fresh blockades, and 
larger defences. The mechanics were gathered 
into the dock-yards to construct new ships of war, 
or transform merchant vessels into galleys. Every 
able-bodied man was armed and drilled. In an 
astonishingly short space of time the results of 


244 


THE WINGED LION. 


Pisani’s genius and energy were perceptible. A 
fleet made its appearance, which grew larger every 
day. Manned with Venetian citizens, who were 
for the most part unacquainted with war, this fleet 
was incessantly kept at maritime exercises ; and 
the Genoese, who kept the blockade, saw in as- 
tonishment a new fleet arising out of nothing, and 
performing evolutions under their own eyes. 

All classes were pervaded by the heroic spirit 
of their leader. Never in the history of the wbrld 
were there greater examples of patriotic devotion 
and self-sacrifice. The young men all took up 
arms. The women gave their jewels, and worked 
incessantly with their hands for their country. 
Old men, who could do nothing else, gave up their 
wealth. Entire fortunes were presented to the 
state, and vast debts were given up by creditors ; 
plate, jewels, and treasure were heaped into the 
public. coffers ; even the priests and monks took up 
arms in the holy cause of their country. There 
was one tradesman who undertook the maintenance 
of a thousand men ; another equipped a ship of war ; 
while the poorer artisans associated together to 
maintain companies of soldiers. One of the most 
touching examples of this self-sacrifice was seen 
in the aged Matteo Faseolo. He had been a 
wealthy citizen of Chiozza, but had lost all by the 
capture of that place. He took his two sons and 
presented them to the magistrates. “If my estate,” 
said he, “ were such as it once was, I would give 


THE WAR OF CHIOZZA. 


245 


it all for the requirements of my country ; but our 
lives are now all that are left to me and my sons. 
Dispose of us as you think best. Employ us either 
by land or sea, and let us rejoice in the thought 
that what little we still possess is devoted to our 
country.’' 

At length, by means of such intense and pro- 
longed exertions on the part of all classes of the 
state, Pisani found himself in possession of a force 
with which he might hope to compete with the 
enemy on equal terms. That enemy had already 
gone into winter quarters behind Chiozza, where 
the most of their ships were dismantled, and of the 
whole fleet only three galleys were in active ser- 
vice. Chiozza was built, like Venice, upon a group 
of islands, surrounded by sand-banks. The ap- 
proaches to this place from the sea were by means 
of two channels, one of which was called Chiozza, 
and the other Brondolo. The plan which Pisani 
had conceived was, to make a combined attack 
upon these two channels, and block them up. In 
this case the Genoese fleet would be shut out 
altogether from the sea. They would then be 
blockaded in turn. At the same time the Vene- 
tian fleet, under Carlo Zeno, which was cruising 
abroad, might soon be expected home, in which 
case their enlarged forces would enable them to 
have the Genoese at their mercy. 

On the 23d of December the Venetian arma- 
ment set forth upon its bold attempt. Its de- 


246 


THE WINGED LTON. 


parture was celebrated with solemn services at St. 
Mark’s. The doge himself went with the fleet, 
and swore never to return unless victorious. The 
fleet consisted of fifty ships of war, sixty armed 
merchant vessels, three hundred boats filled with 
troops, and two large hulks filled with stone and 
rubbish. 

They made their entrance first into the Strait 
of Chiozza, and landed five thousand men. The 
Genoese hurried forth to encounter them, and a 
battle ensued, in which the Venetians were driven 
back to their boats. This, however, was part of 
the design of Pisani, who brought on the battle for 
the purpose of engaging the attention of the Geno- 
ese, and distracting it from his chief purpose. 
While the battle was going on, the hulks were 
towed into the channel. The Genoese, in their 
three galleys, made a desperate assault upon the 
hulks, and in the course of the struggle they were 
sunk. The Venetian flotilla then advanced with 
huge masses of stone and ballast, which they 
heaped over the sunken ships. After this, strong 
rows of piles were driven in, and by the end of the 
following day this channel was completely blocked 
up ; while the Venetian fleet effectually prevented 
the Genoese from trying to remove the obstruc- 
tions. 

The other channel of Brondolo still remained, 
and here the Venetians sailed as soon as possible. 
It was guarded by strong posts on the shore, and 


THE WAR OF CHIOZZA. 


247 


a fierce conflict took place between the Genoese 
and the Venetians, during which the latter suc- 
ceeded in their purpose ; for as they had now the 
superiority on the sea, they were able to block up 
this channel also. 

The Genoese were now effectually shut in ; the 
only channels by which they could escape were 
closed up, and the obstructions were incessantly 
guarded by the Venetians. But the Genoese were 
not idle. They were well aware of the danger in 
which they were. Fierce fights took place inces- 
santly as the Genoese strove to remove the ob- 
structions and force the barriers ; but in all of 
these the Venetians maintained the advantage. 
The struggle between the two now became most 
exhaustive ; on the part of the Genoese there were 
incessant attacks, on the part of the Venetians 
never-ending vigilance. For the Genoese there 
was nothing else to be done ; but the Venetians, 
who had already accomplished so much, had their 
own city behind them j and the thought of this, the 
longing after home, and the severe labors of con- 
stant watching and continuous fighting, all tended 
to dampen their ardor. Murmurs arose. The men 
clamored for some rest or respite ; and at length 
the whole fleet became so mutinous that Pisani 
was compelled to yield. He therefore promised to 
return to Venice, but required a further service 
of forty- eight hours, in which time he hoped that 
the fleet of Carlo Zeno might arrive. 


248 


THE WINGED LION. 


Never were forty- eight hours passed in greater 
suspense, and never did greater issues depend 
upon the events of that time. Like Columbus, 
when he had been forced to make a similar prom- 
ise to his sailors, Pisani waited anxiously, looking 
out over the waters to detect some signs of that 
which was to determine so much. At the same 
time the Genoese looked forth over the same 
waters with equal anxiety, for they, too, expected 
aid and re-enforcements ; and all their hopes de- 
pended upon relief from home. 

At length, before the time had expired, sails 
were seen in the distance. Genoese and Venetian 
now watched with equal anxiety to see what that 
fleet might be. Pisani waited in a suspense as 
great as that with which Napoleon waited at 
Waterloo, to know whether the approaching force 
might be that of Grouchy or Blucher. 

At last all suspense ended, and as the fleet ap- 
proached, the Venetians rose up from doubt and 
dark terror to wild and enthusiastic joy. The 
fleet was theirs ; it was the long-looked-for fleet of 
Carlo Zeno. 

The struggle now went on more furiously than 
ever; the Venetians eager to bring the war to an 
end, the Genoese animated by love of life, the 
hope of escape, and every motive that is most 
powerful in the human heart. In the midst of the 
conflict, the great Doria perished ; and though he 
thus escaped the calamities of the future, still the 


THE WAR OF CHIOZZA. 


249 


loss of their leader made that future darker than 
ever for the Genoese. 

On the 19th of February a combined attack was 
made by land and sea upon the Genoese posts. 
In the course of the struggle, the Genoese made 
an attempt to get into the rear of Zeno’s force ; but 
a brilliant movement on the part of that commander 
led to their defeat. In the course of their flight a 
bridge broke down beneath the weight of the multi- 
tude upon it, and the fugitives, thus cut off, were 
all slaughtered helplessly. 

After these terrible losses, the Genoese shut 
themselves up, and acted on the defensive, ani- 
mated only by the hope of relief from home. At 
last a fleet appeared, which proved to be the one 
that had been so long desired. The Venetians 
had anticipated this ; they had made all their prep- 
arations, and had decided upon their best policy. 
That policy was to maintain the blockade, which 
now not only shut in the besieged, but also kept 
the re-enforcements from reaching them. As the 
new fleet approached, the Venetians watched them 
in the security of an unassailable position : and the 
Genoese on both sides perceived in anguish of soul 
that no communication was possible between them. 
The Genoese Admiral Maruffo, "who commanded 
the relieving fleet, reconnoitred every position, 
but found each in turn impassable ; while the 
wretched garrison, who had watched his approach 
with such feverish joy, now beheld his retreat, and 


250 


THE WINGED LION. 


burst forth into passionate lamentations and cries 
of despair. 

The garrison still held out. Provisions had long 
since failed them, and they were reduced to the 
last privations. But surrender to an implacable 
foe seemed worse than death ; and they endured 
everything before consenting to that. On one 
occasion a desperate attempt was made to pass 
over to the main land by means of rafts and small 
boats ; but in this they were unsuccessful. The 
Venetians pursued them in boats, and all per- 
ished. 

At last all was over. The Genoese garrison had 
to make an unconditional surrender. The Vene- 
tians held victory within their grasp, and entered 
into the fortress that had so long repelled them. 
Out of that proud armament which had brought 
Venice down to the lowest depths of despair, they 
found but nineteen galleys left, and only a little 
over four thousand men, whose emaciated frames 
bore witness to their prolonged sufferings. 

On the surrender of the garrison, the Genoese 
Admiral Maruffo retreated; and the Venetians re- 
turned in triumph to their city. At the head of 
his victorious host, the doge entered the city in 
the Bucentaur ; and that day was the most glori- 
ous in all the annals of Venice. 


YOUTH AND PLEASURE. 


251 




CHAPTER XVIII. 


Afloat. — In a Gondola. — Romantic Situation. — The Story 
of the three Artists. 


HE gondola still glided along upon the outer 


waters. 


“ This is delightful,” said Vernon. “ 1 
feel like singing, 1 I’m afloat, I’m afloat.’ Here 
we are gliding along, youth at the prow, and 
pleasure at the helm; youth in the persons of Clive 
and David, who are eagerly trying to make out 
places from the map of the city, while pleasure at 
the helm may be represented by our good selves, 
as we sit here in this snug little cabin, bent on en- 
joying ourselves.” 

“ I wish,” said Gracie, 11 that I could thank you 
sufficiently for the pleasure that you have given 
me, Mr. Vernon. There has been only one draw- 
back — only one.” 

“ Yes,” said Vernon ; “ I know. But still let us 
hope that we shall hear something this evening 
about your aunt. If not, I will set to work my- 
self. At the same time I hope to have good news 
this evening.” 

“ 1 hope so, I’m sure,” said Gracie. 


252 


THE WINGED LION. 


u If I don’t hear anything, I will go myself, much 
as I hate to break up these delightful interviews. 
I hope,” continued he, in a low voice, “ that I have 
made it pleasant for you.” 

“ I’m sure,” said Gracie, “ you must have seen 
for yourself how pleasant it has been. I’m afraid 
I’ve been enjoying myself too much. I’ve forgot- 
ten my poor auntie.” 

“ Well, perhaps I’ve forgotten to do my duty, 
too,” said Vernon. u I’ve been thinking so much 
of you that I’ve forgotten your aunt. 

‘ With thee conversing, I forget all time; 

But neither breath of morn, when she ascends, 

With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun, 

Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night, 

With this her solemn bird, nor walk by noon, 

Nor glittering starlight, without thee is sweet.’ ” 

u That’s from Milton,” said Gracie, with a pretty 
little air of embarrassment. u You appear to take 
great delight in Paradise Lost, Mr. Vernon.” 

“ Yes ; but I take greater delight in a present 
Paradise,” said Vernon, looking at her with deep 
meaning. 

Grade’s eyes fell before his, and her embarrass- 
ment grew greater. Vernon drew nearer to her, 
and was just on the point of saying something 
more ; but unfortunately at that moment Clive and 
David came in, arguing hotly about some point on 
which they wished to have his decision. The de- 
cision was promptly made, and in Clive’s favor ; 


THE THREE ARTISTS. 


253 


after which Vernon looked as if he thought that 
the boys might possibly want to go out again. 
But the boys had no idea of anything of the kind. 
On the contrary, the}^ deposited themselves in easy 
attitudes on the soft cushions, and Clive said, — 

“ Would it be too much, Mr. Vernon, to ask you 
to read another of your stories ? ” 

! 11 0, do,” said Gracie. “ Haven’t you another 
story about artist life ? ” 

Vernon drew a long breath, and took up his man- 
uscript with an air of resignation. His little re- 
mark to Gracie had thus to be postponed. What 
he read was the following : — 

The Three Artists. 

Sagredo, Pezaro, and Urso were three young 
artists who had studied under Titian. Of these, 
Sagredo had been the master’s favorite. He was 
distinguished by his warmth of coloring, his fer- 
tility of conception, and his marvellous power of 
indicating by delicate touches the most subtile va- 
riations in the expression of the human counte- 
nance. Pezaro was an artist of superior abilities ; 
in drawing and coloring he was quite equal to the 
other ; he was also most painstaking, and never 
grudged any labor that might make his work bet- 
ter ; but then he lacked the rare power of concep- 
tion which was evinced by Sagredo, and the equally 
rare power of putting those conceptions upon can- 
vas. As a copyist, he was almost perfect ; but in 


254 


THE WINGED LION. 


an original picture he failed to exhibit that mastery 
over the world of passion and expression which 
was so prominent a feature in Sagredo’s works. 
Urso, again, was different from both. Ardent and 
impetuous, he had vivid conceptions, but he had 
not the patience to work them out. He tried to 
grasp at perfection by a sudden rush, and could 
not wait to seek after it by slow and steady appli- 
cation. His works indicated great general effects, 
which might appeal to the common crowd, but not 
the finished creations of an artist who works for 
the cultivated classes. In fact, anything like care- 
ful finish was out of his power. He boasted of his 
rapidity, and sneered at the slow and laborious ef- 
forts of Sagredo, whom he always depreciated, and 
of whom, at the same time, he was bitterly jealous. 

The annual Easter exhibition of paintings was 
approaching. It was to take place in the Museo 
Pamfili ; and great was the excitement among all 
those who took an interest in art — a class which in 
Venice was a very large one. Many competitors 
had given in their names, but the chief interest 
rested upon Sagredo and Pezaro. Among the oth- 
ers was Urso. As he was in the habit of sneering 
at everything, so he directed his sneers at these 
exhibitions. He declared the judges to be partial 
and prejudiced. For his part, he said, he did not 
intend to kill himself for a lot of old women. He 
intended to enjoy himself, and dash off some- 
thing at the latest moment. Genius, he asserted, 


THE THREE ARTISTS. 


255 


disdains drudgery. A work of art ought to show 
something more than manual labor. His works 
showed brains, and if the judges had brains they 
would decide differently ; but then they always 
decided by a set of formal rules, and had no soul 
to perceive the subtile beauty of a great and origi- 
nal work. 

All this, and more of the same sort, was listened 
to approvingly by a little crowd of admirers who 
had gathered around Urso, who were impressed by 
his positiveness, by his constant depreciation of 
others, and by his vigorous self-assertion. 

The appointed day at last came. All the pic- 
tures were hung, and curtains protected each one 
from the dust, and also served to conceal them un- 
til the moment should arrive when each should be 
revealed. A large crowd assembled, full of curi- 
osity, and among them was the great master, Ti- 
tian, who was always interested in the progress of 
his pupils. 

Picture after picture was disclosed, and each re- 
ceived its proper comments. That of Pezaro was 
universally admired. It represented the Flight 
into Egypt — an old subject, 'which, however, was 
treated with much originality — a burning plain — 
a solitary palm tree — the holy family resting — 
the ass tethered near at hand, and cropping some 
scant herbage. Titian looked and smiled approv- 
ingly. 

A few others were uncovered, and then came 


256 


THE WINGED LION. 


Urso’s picture. It was a great blaze of coloring, 
coarsely dashed on, and was a palpable appeal to 
the popular prejudice and self-conceit. The sub- 
ject was the Genius of Venice — a nude figure, 
with a halo round the head, and a crown of stars 
was represented flying over the waves. In the 
sky above were Fame, Victory, Peace, Fortune, and 
twenty more allegorical figures ; in the water be- 
neath was Neptune with a great crowd of Tritons 
and Nereids ; while upon a distant shore stood a 
row of other figures representing the states of 
Europe. Some were loud in applause : others were 
silent ; Titian raised his brows, and then looked 
away. 

Urso saw this somewhat contemptuous move- 
ment. 

“ It’s not in the old man’s style,” he whispered 
to a friend ; “ he don’t understand it at all. But 
his day is over. My turn will come, for I’m going 
to found a new school.” 

At last, Sagredo’s picture was reached, and all 
waited, full of eager expectation. 

The curtain was drawn. 

For a moment all stood staring in perplexity, and 
then looked at one another in wonder. The pic- 
ture — what did this mean ? What was this that 
they saw before them ? It was nothing ! Nothing 
was there but a confused blur, that looked like a 
great daub from some coarse and hasty brush. 
Amazement seized upon all, and amazement was 


THE THREE ARTISTS. 


257 


followed by confusion. Titian, who had awaited 
the drawing of the curtain with a smile of pleas- 
ant anticipation, looked around in astonishment. 
Pezaro stared at Sagredo, and all the rest did the 
same. For it seemed at first as though this enigma 
could be solved only by him ; and there was a 
thought that in this apparent mockery there might 
be some hidden meaning. 

But this notion was soon dispelled. They saw 
Sagredo, pale as death, standing with his eyes 
fixed on the blurred painting, with agony in his 
face. He stood thus for some time, staring and si- 
lent, and at length burst into tears. 

“ What is this ? ” he cried. “ I never knew that 
I had an enemy.’’ 

At this the whole truth burst upon them. Sa- 
gredo had an enemy. He had been dealt with 
most foully. Who was he ? Who could he be ? 
How could he have done this ? Such were the 
indignant questions which each one asked the other, 
and the murmurs that first arose deepened into 
indignant demands for an investigation into this. 

The janitor was summoned and interrogated. 
But he could tell nothing. In vain they threatened 
him with the vengeance of the law. The threat 
only served to reduce the miserable man to the 
borders of idiocy. It was plain that he knew noth- 
ing about it. And so the mystery remained as dark 
as ever ; and no one could conceive how or why 
this cruel deed had been done. 

17 


258 


THE WINGED LION. 


In the midst of this, Urso went up to Sagredo, 
and condoled with him. 

“ It’s a fiendish act,” said he, “ a devilish act. 
To me, of course, it would not be much ; but for 
you, who work so slowly, it must be hard. Why, 
it spoils the work for a whole year.” 

“ Yes,” said Sagredo, sadly, “ a whole year’s 
work is ruined — and more too.” 

“ 0, well,” said Urso ; “ you should do as I do ; 
work fast — don’t be a drudge.” 

Sagredo shook his head wearily. 

“ Every one,” said he, “ must work in accordance 
with his own taste and temper.” 

It was, as Urso said, a fiendish act, but still the 
deed had been done, and there was no help for it. 
The judges, in awarding the prize, could only de- 
cide from the actual pictures before them, and 
could not, of course, take any notice of a blurred 
canvas. And so in their decision they awarded 
the prize to Pezaro. 

No sooner was this announced than Pezaro burst 
forth. 

11 No,” said he, indignantly, 11 I’ll not take it. I 
saw Sagredo’s picture. It was far — far — better 
than mine. Sagredo is far superior to me. I could 
be willing to be his pupil, except that I know that 
he has genius, and that his natural gifts can never 
be communicated to me. Yet still, as it is, I have 
learned much from him. All my best ideas have 
come from him, and that very picture of mine was 


THE THREE ARTISTS. 


259 


suggested by him. I’ll never take the prize while 
he is here.” 

At such an outburst of generous feeling all pres- 
ent were deeply moved, and there was not a little 
confusion. Sagredo pressed the hand of his friend 
in deep emotion. 

“ No, dear friend,” said he, 11 you shall not sac- 
rifice yourself in this way. Your picture deserves 
the prize. You must take it. We can have other 
chances of competing in future years.” 

As he spoke, Titian came up. 

“ Yes,” said he, “ Pezaro ; Sagredo is right. 
You must take the prize. Your picture is the best 
here, and the prize must be yours, and yours only. 
It is yours fairly, justly, and honorably. But more 
than this is yours, Pezaro ; for no prize that man 
can offer is a fitting reward for your chivalrous 
friendship, your splendid self-abnegation, and your 
noble generosity. Take the prize, Pezaro, and let 
the world learn from you that there is one painter 
at least who is free from envy and jealousy — that 
curse of artists.” 

As he spoke these last words, Titian fixed his 
eyes on Urso. The latter quailed before his glance, 
and looked away. Shortly afterwards he retired 
from the room. 

And so Pezaro took the prize. 

As for Sagredo, this mishap did not greatly harm 
him. It elicited general sympathy, and made 
his merits better known. Other occasions came 


260 


THE WINGED LION. 


when his works were displayed and his genius 
recognized. 

As for Urso, he did not remain long in Venice. 
For it was found that he had made the acquaint- 
ance of the janitor, and used to visit him under va- 
rious pretexts. Moreover, on the evening of the 
exhibition he had persuaded the janitor to let him 
see the pictures. Permission was granted, and thus 
circumstances all pointed towards him as the only 
possible author of this foul deed. Urso’s own acts 
confirmed the general suspicion, for shortly after- 
wards he quietly retired from Venice, and was 
never heard of again. 


THE POLICE AGAIN. 


261 


CHAPTER XIX. 


Ve?'iioji visits the Police. — Strange Tidings. — Off to the 
Hotel Ze7io. — Disappointment. — Clive and David find 
out the Error of their Ways. 



FTER their return, Yernon went at once 
to the Police Bureau to make inquiries 
about Miss Lee. Thus far he had received 
no satisfaction ; and now he had the same ill for- 
tune. He thought this very strange, and it seemed 
still stranger when, on further questioning, he could 
obtain no information whatever. Either the Vene- 
tian police were unwilling to talk of their proceed- 
ings to outsiders, or else they had utterly failed in 
the business for which he wished their aid. The 
latter seemed to Yernon to be the true state of the 
case, and he began to feel deep vexation at the 
uselessness of the aid which he had offered to 
Gracie. 

While he was talking, there came in the official 
with whom Frank and Uncle Moses had come in 
contact. Some of the words in the conversation 
attracted his attention, and he came towards 
Yernon. 

11 Pardon, signor,” said he ; “ hut are you the 


262 


THE WINGED LION. 


gentleman who has been requesting us to make 
inquiries after Miss Lee ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ At Verona ? ” 

11 Yes.” 

u Well, do you know that there are others here 
who have been requesting our aid in search of this 
same Miss Lee ? ” 

u Others ! ” said Vernon, in surprise. 

“ Yes. Do you know them ? ” 

“ No.” 

u They have been here several times. I wonder 
that you have not met them. But Venice is a dif- 
ficult place for friends to meet, unless they know 
one another’s movements. At any rate, these oth- 
ers assert that Miss Lee is in Venice.” 

“ In Venice ! ” 

“ 0, yes ; they know it.” 

“ Is it possible ! And did they ask you to search 
after her? and have you found her?” asked Ver- 
non, eagerly. 

The official shook his head. 

“ We have found nothing. She cannot be in 
Venice. All that is known of her is, that she was 
last at the Hotel Zeno.” 

“ The Hotel Zeno !” cried Vernon, in fresh sur- 
prise. u When ? ” 

u The day before yesterday.” 

“ The day before yesterday?” said Vernon. 
“ That was impossible, for I was there myself, 


STRANGE TIDINGS. 


263 


and saw nothing of her, and that was the very 
time when I first came here to ask your aid.” 

u Nevertheless,” said the official, in his most im- 
pressive tone, “ Miss Lee was at the Hotel Zeno 
the day before yesterday. She came there in 
company with two boys. After staying there, 
she left with the same two boys. These others, 
who have been making inquiries here, are more 
eager to find the boys than they are to find Miss 
Lee.” 

Upon the receipt of this astonishing information, 
Vernon was at first quite confounded. But at 
length the facts of the case began to be evident. 
He saw plainly that these strangers, who had come 
in search of the boys, could be no others than Uncle 
Moses, with Frank and Bob, of whom he had heard 
often enough from his young guests, and that the 
boys whom they were seeking must be David and 
Clive ; while the Miss Lee, for whom they inquired, 
must be Gracie herself, and not the aunt. What they 
could want with Gracie he did not exactly know ; 
but of this he did not think. Two great facts were 
before him, one being that Grade’s aunt was still 
among the missing, and the other that Uncle 
Moses had hurried to Venice in pursuit of Clive 
and David. For the first time he understood the 
position of these two, and saw that they were re- 
garded by their anxious uncle as runaways. 

“ Then you have not found these boys.” 

“ No,” said the official. 


264 


THE WINGED LION. 


Upon this Yernon explained to him the facts of 
the case. 

“ Where are these people staying ? ” he asked. 

“ At the Hotel Zeno.” 

“Very well; I will go there at once with the 
boys, and they will be able to join their friends. 
There need be no more trouble about that.” 

u You are not acquainted with the old man, 
then ? ” said the official. 

11 No.” 

“ They have had great trouble to-day,” con- 
tinued the official, “ and will be glad to see you, 
if you go with the boys.” 

“ Trouble ? What kind of trouble ? ” asked Yer- 
non. 

The official went on to tell them about the arrest 
of Bob. Yernon listened with a mixture of sur- 
prise and merriment. 

“ But I did not know that swimming in the canal 
is against the laws,” said he. “ I swim in the ca- 
nals constantly, whenever I have time to go out to 
Lido, or some other place.” 

“ 0, it’s not against the laws ; but on the Grand 
Canal no one can swim after a certain hour, and 
this boy was beyond the time. Besides, when the 
men chased him, they at first intended only to warn 
him, but he gave them so much trouble that they 
arrested him.” 

There was nothing more to be learned now ; so 
Yernon returned home. 


gracie’s disappointment. 265 

Gracie came to meet him, looking at him with 
anxious inquiry. 

Yernon sadly shook his head. 

“ What ! ” said she. “ Have you heard noth- 
ing ? ” 

“ Not a word.” 

At this tears started into Gracie’s eyes. 

“Cheer up,” said Vernon, tenderly. “I’ll go 
myself to-morrow. We can arrange all about it 
to-night. I’m of the opinion that the police have 
neglected the business. I’m sure, if they had 
tried, they might have learned something. They 
could, at least, have found out whether she is in 
Verona or not. But they know nothing at all, and 
it is just as if they had not sent any messenger. 
And I’m half inclined to think that they did not. 
The fact is, it was my own stupidity. I should 
have feed them well, but I forgot ; and then I 
haven’t shaken off my American ideas about fee- 
ing. It doesn’t come natural to us. We never 
fee any one in America, and it takes a long time 
for one to get into the habit of it here ; besides, 
when one is at all occupied with other thoughts, 
he forgets all his new feeing . habit. But don’t 
look so sad,” continued Vernon, in an anxious 
voice. “ I’ll go myself. I’ll do all that is possi- 
ble, and I won’t come back to you again until I 
bring your aunt with me.” 

At this a smile broke througli Gracie’s tears, 
and she murmured some low, sweet words of 
thanks. 


266 


THE WINGED LION. 


After this, Vernon hastened to acquaint Clive 
and David with the extraordinary news that Uncle 
Moses, with Frank and Bob, was here in Venice, 
and had been seeking after them. He also told 
the story of Bob’s adventure with the police. 
This intelligence filled David and Clive with 
varied feelings. Astonishment at finding Uncle 
Moses here was followed by the sudden discovery 
that they had acted towards him in a way that 
seemed both inconsiderate and heartless. The 
remorse which they felt for this was, however, 
much mitigated by the idea of Bob’s bath ; for 
they saw only the humorous side of this adven- 
ture, and did not imagine what anguish of soul it 
had caused to all concerned. 

But the one thought now was, that Uncle Moses 
was here in V enice ; and their one impulse was, to 
hurry immediately to the Hotel Zeno. All could 
then be explained ; and he, in his joy at finding 
them, would forgive them all. Vernon also was 
anxious to see Uncle Moses, for it seemed to him 
that his inquiries after Miss Lee indicated some 
knowledge, on his part, of Gracie’s aunt. It was 
quite possible that he had met her, and while seek- 
ing after Clive and David, had also included Gracie 
in the search. 

This was all explained to Gracie, who felt sure 
that it must be so. Uncle Moses, she thought, 
could not have mentioned her to the police, un- 
less he had met with her aunt, and had been com- 


THE LANDLORD’S STATEMENT. 267 

* \ 

missioned by her to do so. And thus it became 
highly necessary, for many reasons, to see Uncle 
Moses as soon as possible. 

Taking Clive and David with him, Yernon now 
went to the Hotel Zeno. They all expected to see 
the objects of their search, and were full of hope 
and pleasant anticipation ; but these feelings were 
in an instant dispelled by the first answer which 
they received to their eager question. 

They had gone — they had left the city. 

“ Gone ? Where ? 77 

11 To Verona .’ 7 

11 Yerona ! 77 

The disappointment was, indeed, great and hard 
to bear. All the self-reproach and remorse that 
their conduct might cause were now felt by Clive 
and David, as they stood and stared at each other 
in consternation. 

The landlord went on to explain all. He said 
that they had arrived on the previous day, and 
had inquired anxiously about Clive and David ; 
that they had then gone to the police to get as- 
sistance towards finding them ; that the old man 
was very sad, but the boys were indifferent. Then 
he alluded to Bob’s arrest, and described the anx- 
iety of Uncle Moses and Frank ; and then said that 
after Bob’s deliverance they had all hurried away, 
still hoping to find Clive and David, and thinking 
that Yerona would be the most likely place in which 
to discover them. 


268 


THE WINGED LION. 


The landlord’s information completed the dejec- 
tion of Clive and David. They now understood all. 
They perceived that Uncle Moses had been tor- 
mented by his anxiety ever since they had left 
him ; that he had left Florence before the time 
mentioned, and must have followed close on their 
track, as he had been only one day behind them. 
How he had managed to track them was not a 
difficult question to answer. He had heard of them 
at the different hotels, and had tracked them to the 
Hotel Zeno. There he had been at fault ; and then 
thinking that they were still wandering about, he 
had hurried away to Verona. Formerly they had 
been accustomed to laugh at the anxiety of Uncle 
Moses ; but now, knowing as they did his gentle 
and affectionate nature, they were shocked at the 
thought of the misery which must have been in- 
flicted upon him by their own hasty and incon- 
siderate acts. They saw that while they had been 
intent only upon their own enjoyment, and had 
been giving themselves up, without a thought of 
others, to their own selfish pleasure, their poor 
dear Uncle Moses had been following after them 
from place to place, seeking them, but finding them 
not. What was worst of all, they saw that even 
now he was far away at Verona; there, as else- 
where, carrying on his search after them, but only 
to meet with fresh disappointments, worse than 
any which he had hitherto encountered. They 
felt now as if they could never forgive themselves ; 


GRACIE A COMFORTER. 


269 


and as if they could never rest until they had hur- 
ried after him, and begged his forgiveness on their 
knees. 

There was nothing more to be learned at the 
Hotel Zeno, and so they all returned. Yernon 
was deeply disappointed, because he had hoped to 
obtain some news to bring back to Gracie, with 
which he might cheer her ; while Clive and David 
were both disappointed and distressed. Fortu- 
nately for Yernon, he had forborne to say anything 
to Gracie, before starting, about his hope of hearing 
from Uncle Moses some news of her aunt ; and as 
she had expected nothing, she could not be disap- 
pointed. 

On reaching the house, Yernon repeated to 
Gracie his promise that he would go himself in 
search of her aunt ; and this seemed to give her 
consolation. Besides, she was drawn away from 
her own troubles by the sight of the great distress 
of Clive and David. She tried to console them, 
and spoke to them words of hope and encourage- 
ment. 

u How funny it all seems ! ” said she. “We were 
all runaways — all three of us. It’s the old prov- 
erb — Birds of a feather flock together. I didn’t 
know that you were runaways, but I must have 
felt it ; and that must have been the reason why 
my heart warmed towards you. Misery loves 
company, as another proverb says ; so, boys, the 
best thing that we can do is to sit in a corner to- 


270 


THE WINGED LION. 


gether, and have a good cry. Of course you won’t 
cry, because you’re so proud ; but I’m not proud 
a bit, and I mean to cry my eyes out.” 

“ If you are going to Verona,” said Clive, u may 
we not go with you ? ” 

u What good would that do ? ” asked Vernon. 

“ Why, we should meet Uncle Moses.” 

“ Do you suppose that he will be at Verona by 
the time that you would get there ? ” 

u Why not ? ” 

“ Well, I’ve been thinking of that, and it seems 
to me that he would not stay there longer than he 
could help. He arrived there this evening. He 
has gone to the two chief hotels, the only places 
where he would be likely to find you, or you would 
be likely to stay. He has found that you are not 
there. So he has already concluded that you are 
not at Verona, and is, perhaps, just now debating 
with Frank and Bob about the most likely course 
that you could have taken in your erratic wander- 
ings. And Uncle Moses is all at sea ; but there is 
a fierce argument between Frank and Bob ; one of 
whom, Frank, is for going back to Florence, and 
waiting till they hear from you ; while Bob is eager 
to go on to Milan.” 

• At this fancy sketch, Clive and David gave a 
sickly smile. They were not in the humor for fun. 
Their distress was too deep. 

“ But we could go with you,” said David, “ and 
find them, wherever they are.” 


THE DECISION. 


271 


u No,” said Vernon. “ Let me go alone. Your 
best place is here. I’ll find Uncle Moses, and 
send him here to you. You’ve been wandering 
about long enough. Stay here by all means, in 
one fixed place, till you hear from him or from me. 
That’s your safest plan.” 

“ But wouldn’t it be well to telegraph ? ” 

“ 0, most excellent, if you only knew where to 
telegraph. But where ? that is the question. To 
Yerona ? But by to-morrow morning they’ll be on 
the wing. To Milan ? But they may go to Flor- 
ence. To Florence ? But they may come here to 
Venice. You see it’s all uncertain, and the only 
thing you can do now is, to stand still and let them 
come to you.” 

It seemed very hard to Clive and David, yet 
Vernon’s words were unanswerable, and so they 
concluded to leave all to him, and do just what 
he said. 


272 


THE WINGED LION. 


CHAPTER XX. 


The End of Happiness. — The cheerful Vernon. — Grade's 
Resolution. — A lost Day. — Verona. — Inquiries. — The 
right Track. — The Amphitheatre at Sunset. — An inter- 
esting Conversation. 



ND thus all their happiness had come to an 
end. There were no more pleasant expe- 
ditions about the wonderful city ; no more 
seasons of dreamy enjoyment ; no more wander- 
ings through long galleries, or under lofty cathe- 
dral arches. All this had come to an end, and they 
all had something to think of which was far differ- 
ent from Venetian stories. 

That evening was of itself enough to show the 
greatness of the change that had taken place. 
There was no chance for Vernon to exhibit his pic- 
tures, and no one asked him to read any of his 
stories. He tried to speak in a cheerful way to his 
guests, but his words had no effect ; and Gracie 
on the one hand, and David and Clive on the other, 
found it impossible to rouse themselves from the 
deep gloom into which they had fallen. 

Still Vernon persisted in his well-meant efforts 
to cheer up his melancholy guests, and he directed 
his attention more particularly towards Gracie. 


VERNON CHEERFUL. 


273 


11 I’m quite sure,” said he, “ that the police have 
done nothing. It was all owing to my own unfor- 
tunate absence of mind. I was so engrossed with 
other things that I really forgot all about the all- 
important fee. Nobody in all Italy will think of 
doing anything without a preliminary fee. It’s the 
same all over Europe. In America it’s totally dif- 
ferent, and it’s hard for an American to get into the 
way of it. Aside from its strangeness, there seems 
to an American something degrading about it ; and 
so, you see, it’s a long time before one can grow to 
have one’s wits about him in this respect. 0, yes, 
I’m quite certain that this is the whole trouble. 
That accounts for their indifference, their igno- 
rance, their assurances of pretended messages and 
messengers, with their absolute inaction. They’re 
not humbugs ; they are merely waiting for their 
fee. At all events, what’s done can’t be undone ; 
and so I’ll go myself. The Venetian police shan’t 
get any fees from me. I’ll go to Verona, and search 
for myself, and I’ll be hanged if I don’t believe that 
I’ll do better than any police agent, fee and all. 

“ Now, as to your aunt, I really don’t think that 
you need worry so much. It’s only fifty-six hours 
since you left her. It was the day before yester- 
day. Fifty-six hours ! The day before yesterday ! 
What’s that ? Why, it’s nothing at all. You speak 
as though fifty-six months had passed. The time 
seems long to you, I dare say,” continued Vernon, 
reproachfully. u I dare say it seems like fifty-six 
18 


274 


THE WINGED LION. 


years ; but to me it seems like fifty-six minutes. 
At any rate, you have only lost your aunt for a 
few hours. She’s in Verona now, you may be sure. 
She’s waiting quietly there till you come back. I 
dare say she is a little worried about you, for fear 
that you have come to harm; but as for herself, she’s 
all right. She’s at the Hotel de la Tour, or the 
Hotel Deux Tours — one or the other ; it don’t 
matter which. All she wants is to know that you 
are well ; and as you know yourself that you are 
well, why worry about your aunt ? I mean to go 
to Verona, and go straight to the Hotel de la Tour, 
and ask for Miss Lee. I shall see her at once. I 
shall tell her how I found you, ask her to take my 
arm, and we shall come back by return train. She 
will be here by evening, and you will wonder how 
in the world you managed to make such a heap of 
trouble about a mere trifle.” 

These were brave words. Gracie smiled, but 
the smile did not hide the anxiety which still re- 
mained within her heart, undiminished. 

On the following morning, Vernon was preparing 
for his departure, when Gracie informed him that 
she had a request to make. 

“ I’ve been awake all night,” said Gracie, 11 and 
I’m so awfully worried that I cannot endure it ; and 
I cannot bear to stay here any longer, and I’ve 
been speaking to your mother about it, and I want 
to go to Verona myself.” 

“ With me ! ” said Vernon, as a flush of joy over- 
spread his face. 


gracie’s resolution. 


275 


u Yes/’ said Gracie, 11 and I’ve been talking with 
your mother, and she has offered to go with me ; 
and I thought I’d mention it to you, so as to know 
whether there is anything to prevent it, or if it 
will interfere with your search.” 

“ Interfere ! ” cried Vernon, in the utmost joy. 
11 Interfere ! Why, it will be the very thing. And 
will mother really go ? ” 

“ She said — as I am so worried — that she 
would go with me ; and you know the boys can 
stay here all the same, or go with us.” 

11 The boys — 0, they must stay here,” said Ver- 
non. “ The best thing for them now is to stay in 
this one place and wait. But you ! and will you 
really come with me ? and will mother come ? 0, 

that will be more than I dared hope for. And I 
shan’t have to leave you, after all, and we can 
make our search together.” 

Vernon was quite beside himself with joy at this 
proposal. Gracie had made it out of her deep 
anxiety ; but to Vernon it seemed the highest hap- 
piness. He loved so much to be with Gracie that 
this journey had seemed almost intolerable ; but 
now the dreaded parting need not take place, for 
she, too, was coming. 

Clive and David heard of this, but they had 
nothing to say. They both felt guilty ; and as they 
had sinned through wilfulness and thoughtlessness, 
they now felt ready to resign thought and will to 
another. They accepted the situation, therefore, 


276 


THE WINGED LION. 


with resignation, ancl in silence, and tried to con- 
sole themselves with the hope that it would be all 
for the best. 

This new arrangement, however, made very se- 
rious alterations in Vernon’s plans. For Mrs. Ver- 
non was a quiet lady, who travelled but little, and 
so hated to move from her home that the prospect 
of such a thing never failed to fill her with confu- 
sion. On the present occasion, the journey before 
her, short though it was, served to completely 
bewilder her. She was reduced to a state of ner- 
vous trepidation and fidgety anxiety about her 
preparations. The train was to leave at ten 
o’clock ; and in her eagerness to make ready she 
utterly broke down from overwork and nervous- 
ness. Then she tried to rally *, and then new 
trouble arose from her own weakness, and she 
implored her son to go without her. But V ernon 
would not ; for upon her going depended Gracie’s 
going, and he would not leave now without her 
sweet companionship. There were two other 
trains, one at three, and another at seveil ; but for 
the remainder of that day Mrs. Vernon was unable 
to travel, and the end of it all was, that they had to 
postpone it until the following day. 

They had thus lost a whole day ; but Gracie felt 
consoled at the thought that she herself would, 
after all, be able to go, and Vernon did not care for 
the loss of days, so long as Gracie was with him. 
Fortunately Mrs. Vernon succeeded in overcoming 


ARRIVAL AT VERONA. 


277 


her nervousness, and in effecting her preparations, 
so that on the following day they all left by the ten 
o’clock train. David and Clive went with them to 
the railway station, and bade them farewell with 
melancholy faces. They knew that they had done 
wrong, and that they were now suffering the pen- 
alty of such wrong doing, and could only hope that 
Uncle Moses would be restored to them, in which 
case each one inwardly vowed that he would for 
the future do exactly as Uncle Moses said, no mat- 
ter how much it might interfere with their private 
inclinations. 

The journey proved so pleasant to Vernon and 
to Gracie that both were sorry when it came to an 
end. Vernon was happy because Gracie was by 
his side, and Gracie was happy because she felt as 
though she was with every mile drawing nearer to 
her aunt. All her anxiety had now passed away ; 
or else it had been postponed to some more con- 
venient season. Poor Mrs. Vernon, who had come 
as chaperon, had not slept during the past night ; 
and she made amends for this by sleeping through- 
out the whole journey, which left Vernon free to 
say many things that he might not have said if she 
had been awake. 

At length they arrived at Verona, and went to 
the Hotel de la Tour, where they put up. Here 
Vernon at once asked if any one had been stop- 
ping there by the name of Lee — Signora Lee — an 
American lady. 


278 


THE WINGED LION. 


No such person had been stopping there. 

This was very disheartening information ; but 
Vernon was prepared for this, and went off at once 
to the Hotel Deux Tours. Here, however, he was 
equally unsuccessful, and found that nothing was 
known about any such person. After this he went 
to many other hotels and lodging-houses, thinking 
no place too unlikely for an inexperienced stranger 
to stop at ; but in spite of this he had the deep 
mortification to find his comprehensive search of no 
avail whatever, for he could not discover the slight- 
est trace of the party in question. So the end of 
it all. was, that he had to come back to his friends 
with the sad confession that thus far he had been 
baffled. This intelligence gave the deepest pain 
to Gracie, and it was evident that she was now 
thoroughly alarmed. 

“ I will see the police,” said Vernon. 11 This 
time I will go with them myself. We will tele- 
graph all over Italy. Something must and shall be 
found out.” 

He now went to have another conversation with 
the landlord. 

“ Have you had any ladies here lately?” he asked. 

“ Yes ; a lady was here ; she went away this 
morning. She was a foreigner, a Russian, I think ; 
but she spoke English.” 

“ 0, she spoke English — did she ? ” 

“ Yes ; and some friends of hers came here. They 
were English. She went away with them.” 


MADAME “ MISSOLI. 


279 


“ English friends. Ah ! ” said Vernon ; “ and you 
think she was Russian.” 

The thing had very little interest for him now, 
but he asked once more. 

“ What was the lady’s name ? ” 

11 Madame Missoli,” said the landlord. 

“ Madame Missoli ! I never heard of that name,” 
said Vernon. It was plain to him that this lady 
was of no interest to him. Thus far he had for- 
gotten about Uncle Moses and the boys, but now 
it occurred to him to make inquiries after them. 
One of the objects of his search had failed, but he 
might try, after all, to seek out the other. So he 
asked, — 

“ Have you had any Americans here lately ? ” 

“ Americans ? ” said the landlord. “ Yes. We 
had some. They came the day before yesterday. 
I don’t know whether they were Americans or 
English. They were the ones who went away 
with Madame Missoli. An old man and two boys.” 

At this Vernon eagerly interrupted him. An 
old man and two boys ! Evidently they were Un- 
cle Moses and Frank and Bob. Further questions 
made this certain, and all doubt was driven away 
by the landlord repeating their names. 

With this there came another discovery. The 
name Missoli : it explained itself. It was the Ital- 
ian version of Miss Lee. How stupid of him not 
to perceive this before ! Yes. It must be the 
missing lady ; and somehow or other Uncle Moses 


280 


THE WINGED LION. 


and the boys had made her acquaintance, and they 
had gone away together. He now asked the land- 
lord to describe the personal appearance of Madame 
Missoli, and he found that it accorded perfectly 
with Grade’s description of her aunt. 

“Where did they go?” he asked, eagerly, at 
length, when his last doubt had vanished. 

“ To Venice.” 

“ Venice ? And when ? ” 

“ This morning,” said the landlord. 

“ Ho you know where they intended to put up ? ” 
“ 0, 3 T es ; it was the Hotel Zeno.” 

Vernon was now completely overwhelmed by all 
this sudden and unexpected rush of good news. 
There was nothing further to ask or to do. The 
only thing left now was to go back to Venice 
as fast as possible. So he left the landlord ab- 
ruptly, and hurried to tell the good news to Grade. 
In a few words all was made known ; and Gracie 
was lifted out of the depths of despair to joy and 
hope. But there warf one drawback yet. To go 
back to Venice that day was not possible. Ver- 
non’s search had taken up much time. The last 
train had gone, and they would have to wait until 
the following day. Gracie therefore was forced to 
restrain her impatience, and content herself with 
the prospect that now lay before her. 

There was an hour or two of daylight still be- 
fore them, and Vernon proposed that they should 
go out and see the city. Mrs. Vernon excused her- 


THE AMPHITHEATRE. 


281 


self on the ground of fatigue ; but Gracie was glad 
to go, and the two set forth. The load which for a 
whole day had pressed so heavily on Grade’s mind 
was now removed, and she resumed all her usual 
gayety and sprightliness. All seemed fair and 
bright. She felt certain of meeting with her aunt. 
It needed only one day more, and the painful sep- 
aration would be ended. She also very naturally 
felt as if Vernon had done all this, and amid all her 
sprightliness there was evident in her manner the 
tenderness of gratitude. 

They walked about the city. They saw its ruins, 
its cathedral, its public places, and at length found 
themselves in the grand old amphitheatre. Climb- 
ing up the steps, they seated themselves, and looked 
around- upon the scene. The sight which met their 
eyes was an impressive one, and one which was 
not soon to be forgotten. The sun was low in the 
west, and the arena was wrapped in gloom ; but 
the eastern circle of seats in the upper tiers was 
all crimson in its glowing rays. Their view was 
bounded by the walls of the amphitheatre, and 
they sat for some time in silence. 

“ I’m glad that you are happy,” said Vernon ; 
“ but I’m afraid I shall be sad enough to-morrow. 
The arrival of your aunt will put an end to all our 
wanderings about Venice. And they were so de- 
lightful ! ” 

“ They were very pleasant,” said Gracie, in a 
low voice. “ And I’m sure I hope we shall see 


282 


THE WINGED LION. 


more of Venice, and that you will be at leisure, 
Mr. Vernon.” 

“ At leisure ! ” said Vernon. “ I shall have noth- 
ing but leisure as long as you are in Venice. And 
you are expecting your uncle, too.” 

11 Yes,” said Gracie, in a low voice. “ He was 
to be in Venice on the fourth. This is the sixth. 
He ought to be there now, I should think ; but if 
not, why, we can wait.” 

u Won’t I do?” asked Vernon, very abruptly. 
u You ! ” said Gracie, in surprise. 

11 Yes,” said Vernon. “ Won’t you let me be 
your uncle ? your guardian ? anything ? You see 
how it is. I can’t live without you, Gracie. You 
must see — how — how — how dearly I — I love 
you ; ” and as he said this, his hand closed around 
that of Gracie, which did not withdraw itself. “ 0, 
Gracie,” he continued, “ I cannot bear to have you 
go away and leave me. You won’t — will you? 
You will stay with me — won’t you ? You will be 
my own Gracie — won’t you, as long as you live? ” 
What little Gracie said to all this need not be 
repeated here. Suffice it to say, that it must have 
been quite satisfactory ; for when they returned to 
the hotel Vernon’s face was radiant with joy. 



Private Amphitheatricals. — Page 282 



























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HOTEL DEUX TOURS. 


28 a 


CHAPTER XXL 

The mournful Uncle Moses. — Marius among the Ruins of 
Carthage . — Uncle Moses startled. — A new Acquaint- 
ance. 

EANWHILE Uncle Moses, with Frank and 
Bob, had arrived at Verona, as has been 
said. They put up at the Hotel de la 
Tour. Here, first of all, they asked after Clive and 
David. Nothing was known about them. Then 
they made inquiries about a lady named Lee ; but 
here, too, they were equally unsuccessful. Then 
they went off to the Hotel Deux Tours, another 
establishment which contends with the Hotel de la 
Tour for the honor of being the first in Verona. 
The latter, however, makes a greater bid for Eng- 
lish travel, and has a more sounding name, since its 
full title is Hotel de la Tour de Londres. But their 
search at the Hotel Deux Tours was as unsuccess- 
ful as the search at the Hotel de la Tour, and they 
returned somewhat disconsolate, and passed the 
night. 

“ I’ll tell you, Uncle Moses,” said Frank on the 
following day, “ what we had better do. We ought 
to go about- and see all the sights of Verona. If 



284 


THE WINGED LION. 


the boys are here, we shall be certain to find them, 
for they, too, will be going about sight-seeing.” 

To this proposal Uncle Moses had no objections 
to make ; and as he preferred being with the boys 
to staying at the hotel, he accompanied them. 

Going along the main street, they came to a 
square which was used as a market-place, and con- 
tained many stalls, where all sorts of fruits and 
vegetables were exposed for sale, the venders 
being chiefly old women. At one end of it stood a 
stately palace. On referring to their guide-books 
they found that this was in ancient days the Forum 
of the city. 

Leaving this, they turned down a street, and 
before long they found themselves in front of a 
strange-looking wall which ran across the way. It 
was about fifty feet high, and there were two gates 
in it, and a number of windows. It had an unmis- 
takable look of Roman workmanship, and on re- 
ferring to the guide-book they found that it was 
part of an ancient work raised by the Emperor 
Constantine. As a relic of the past, it was, un- 
doubtedly, interesting, although in itself it pos- 
sessed but little beauty. Proceeding still farther, 
they turned down another street, and all at once 
came full in view of the greatest curiosity of Ve- 
rona, and one of the most interesting monuments 
of ancient Rome now in existence. This was the 
famous Amphitheatre, which, in point of size, ranks 
next to the Coliseum of Rome, while in preserva- 


THE AMPHITHEATRE. 


285 


tion it is far superior to all other similar remains. 
They went towards this, and examined it closely. 
The outer wall was all gone, except a fragment 
three stories in height, raised on arches one above 
the other. The rest of the building was only two 
stories high, and seemed much dilapidated. But 
when they had entered and looked upon the inte- 
rior, they were filled with astonishment. They ex- 
pected to behold a scene of ruin like that of the 
Coliseum, instead of which they found everything 
in a state of preservation almost perfect. All 
around extended the vast circles of seats rising one 
behind the other far on high, capable still of hold- 
ing a multitude as large as those which once as- 
sembled here, in olden days, to see the gladiatorial 
combats. The cause of this preservation is the 
wisdom of the Veronese government. In past 
ages the temples and towers of antiquity had been 
demolished in all directions for building materials, 
and nearly all the outer wall of the Amphitheatre 
had been appropriated in the same way. The 
Veronese government interfered in time to pre- 
vent further destruction, and snatched the grand 
old edifice from the ruin that menaced it. The 
rows of seats, the arena, the vomitories, the inner 
chambers, the rooms of the gladiators, the vivaria, 
all are in good preservation ; and if the ghosts of 
the ancient inhabitants could revisit the glimpses 
of the moon, they would find one spot, at least, 
which would be perfectly familiar. Even in mod- 


286 


THE WINGED LION. 


ern times this building lias been used ; and in the 
year 1849, in particular, it was the scene of a grand 
display, when the spectators were as numerous as 
in ancient times, and when the seat of honor was 
held by one who claims to be the direct represen- 
tative of the Roman emperors, — the Ivaisar (Cse- 
sar), — whose forefathers had called themselves 
Kaisars of the Roman Empire, until Napoleon 
forced them to adopt the humbler title of Kaisar 
of Austria. 

They all sat down here for some time, and at 
length Frank and Bob proposed to go farther. 

“Where do you want to go?” asked Uncle 
Moses, wearily. 

“ 0, anywhere,” said Frank. “ There’s a Ca- 
thedral.” 

“ 0, well, don’t go far away. Frank, I trust to 
you. Don’t let Bob get into trouble. I’ll sit here 
a while, and when I’m rested I’ll go back to the 
hotel. Don’t be late, and don’t get into trouble. 
I’d raytlier go with you ; but I ain’t so spry as I’d 
like to be, an’ as I don’t want to spile your fun, why, 
I’ll have to let you go without me.” 

Uncle Moses spoke very mournfully, and the boys 
felt sad at leaving him ; but Frank was anxious to 
search the city, and still hoped to come upon the 
track of Clive and David. So they promised him 
solemnly not to go away for any distance, and t6 
be back in good time. With this they left, and 
Uncle Moses was alone. 


UNCLE MOSES STARTLED. 


28T 


Thus Uncle Moses remained there, seated in the 
old Amphitheatre, like Marius amid the ruins of 
Carthage. It’s the best place for me, he thought, 
sadly. I’ll be an old ruin soon myself. His mourn- 
ful feelings were too much for him. The anxiety 
which he had endured ever since the departure of 
David and Clive had made him weak in mind and 
body, and the failure to find them at Verona was 
a heavy blow. Thus far he had always succeeded 
in keeping on their track ; but now they were alto- 
gether lost, and he could not think where next to 
go. So he sat there on the steps of the ancient 
Amphitheatre, with his head bowed down, and his 
face buried in his hands. 

Suddenly he was roused by the touch of a light 
hand on his shoulder. He started up, expecting to 
see Frank or Bob. To his surprise it was neither. 
It was a stranger, and the stranger was a lady ; a 
lady of mature age, with gentle and refined fea- 
tures, whereon much sadness was visible. She was 
standing and looking at him wistfully and eagerly. 
As for Uncle Moses, he jumped up to his feet, and 
stared at her without a single word. 

“ Will you pardon me, sir,” said the lady, 11 for 
intruding ? but I am in great distress, and this is 
my only excuse. I happened to hear at the hotel 
that some strangers had come who were Ameri- 
cans. I hurried down to see them. I saw you and 
the dear boys who are with you, and heard you 
speak. I was about to speak to you, but you all 


288 


THE WINGED LION. 


went out. But I was in such a fever of anxiety 
that I followed you, and have just come here. I 
am in great distress. I have met with a great 
misfortune. I am all alone here, among strangers, 
and I want help.” 

At this, all Uncle Moses’ feelings were stirred up 
to their lowest depths, and all the sympathies of 
his generous nature were aroused in behalf of the 
gentle lady who came with such a pitiable appeal. 

“ 0, madam,” said he, “ I’ll do anythin’ — anythin’ 
in the wide world, if I can.” 

He held out his hand, and affectionately pressed 
that of the lady, to show his sympathy. 

11 0, thank you, sir,” said the lady ; “ I’ll tell you 
how I am situated. I came from Boston. My name 
is Miss Lee.” 

“ Miss Lee ! ” cried Uncle Moses, in amazement. 

“ Yes,” said Miss Lee, surprised at his look and 
tone. 

“ Miss Lee,” cried Uncle Moses again ; u and 
weren’t you in Venice ? and didn’t you meet my two 
boys ? and have you come to tell me about them ? 
0, if you can tell me anything, do, do, for I’m heart- 
broken.” 

Miss Lee shook her head mournfully. u I don’t 
understand you,” said she. u I haven’t been in 
Venice, and I haven’t seen any boys, except those 
dear lads that you have with you. They are not 
lost — are they ? for they have just left you ; or 
have you lost any others.” 


MISS LEE. 


289 


“Others? 0, yes, marm,” said Uncle Moses, 
with a groan ; “ they left me at Florence, and went 
to Venice. I tracked them there, and couldn’t find 
them. But they told me at the hotel that they had 
been there with a Miss Lee, and had gone away. 
I understood that they had gone to Verona; and 
that’s why I came here.” 

Miss Lee clasped Uncle Moses 7 arm with both 
her hands. 

“ What’s that ? ” she said, eagerly ; “ Miss Lee ? 
When did your boys go to Venice?” 

“ Wal, as nigh as I can cal’late, they left Padua 
for Venice the day before yesterday.” 

“ In the morning? ” asked Miss Lee, with intense 
eagerness. 

u Yes, ’m.” 

“ Then they must have been in the same train. 
They’ve found her, and she’s safe. 0, I thank 
Heaven ! 0, sir, what a load you have taken off 

my mind ! ” 

11 Wal, won’t you try and take a little of the load 
off my mnid ? ” said Uncle Moses. “ Who is 1 her ? ’ 
Who did they meet? Is there any other Miss Lee 
but you? ” 

I 0, it’s my niece — Gracie.” 

II Your niece, Gracie ! ” said Uncle Moses, in a 
strange tone. 

u 0, yes ; and I’ll tell you all about it. 0, sir, 
how glad I am that I’ve met with you ! Heaven 
19 


290 


THE WINGED LION. 


has sent you here in answer to my prayer ; and I’m 
sure we shall be able to help one another.” 

At this flattering mention of himself as a heavenly 
messenger, a smile broke out upon the rueful visage 
of Uncle Moses like sunshine, and all the clouds 
were rapidly dispelled. There was something, 
also, in what Miss Lee said that reassured him. It 
showed that others had lost their youthful charges 
as well as himself, and that things were not so bad, 
after all. Besides, he felt compelled to take up the 
attitude of consoler and adviser to this forlorn lady, 
and therefore he had to rouse himself from his own 
despondency, so as to infuse hope into her. 

“ 0, come,” said he, “ an’ set right down here, an’ 
tell me all about it. We’ll be able to get on to 
their trail, an’ hunt ’em down. So they’re all to- 
gether — air they? my boys and your gal. Well, 
that is cur’ous, too. I can’t account for it, no how.” 

As Uncle Moses said these words, he seated 
himself again, and motioned to Miss Lee to take a 
seat beside him. This that lady did, and then 
began to pour forth the story of her woes. 

She had left home in company with her brother, 
his wife, and some other friends. Gracie was under 
her special charge, and had been sent to Europe 
for the benefit of her health. After various wan- 
derings they had reached Geneva, and here the 
whole party remained for some time. Her brother 
and his wife then wished to go to Italy ; but Miss 
Lee did not feel able to endure the fatigues of 


MISS lee’s narrative. 


291 


rapid travel and sight- seeing ; so an arrangement 
was made, by which she should remain in Geneva 
for another month, and then meet them in Venice. 
The brother then departed with his wife and 
friends for Marseilles, and had written from Genoa, 
Naples, Rome, and Florence. On the receipt of 
the last letter, Miss Lee had started for Venice 
with Gracie, and nothing of importance had oc- 
curred until the eventful morning of their sep- 
aation. 

u But why did you stay here ? ” asked Uncle 
Moses. “ Why didn’t you go right straight on after 
her?” 

Miss Lee sighed. 

“ Why,” said she, “ when the train went off and 
left me, I was so terrified and bewildered that I 
could think of nothing. I couldn’t speak a word 
of the language, and didn’t know what to do. I 
thought that Gracie would come back to me, and 
my only thought was to wait here for her. So I 
waited at the depot till the return train came, and 
when I saw she was not in it, I was quite over- 
whelmed. Still I hoped that she would come back ; 
and so I put up at the Hotel de la Tour, and thought 
I would wait till the next day. I went to the depot 
on the next day, but she was not there. Then I 
began to be afraid that something had happened. 
The worst of it was, I had staid here so long that I 
could not think of going away ; and my only hope 
has been that Gracie, after all, would come back to 


292 


THE WINGED LION. 


me. But, amid it all, there was the dreadful fear 
that the poor child had met with some frightful 
misfortune. And so these two days have been full 
of misery, and I do not know what I should have 
done if I hadn’t met with you. And now I feel as 
if all my troubles were over, for you can help me 
to find Gracie ; and from what you say she must be 
with your boys.” 

“ 0, yes, ’m,” said Uncle Moses, in a tone of confi- 
dence that was very unlike his recent dejection ; 
“ we’ll find ’em. They’re all together somewhars, 
an’ we’ll get on their track an’ bring ’em all back like 
so many prodigal sons. On’y it’s a leetle hard to tell 
whar to begin. I’ve come here in search of ’em, 
but can’t find any signs of ’em at all. I don’t 
know what else to do but to hand the business over 
to the police.” 

“ The police f” said Miss Lee, in a tone of horror. 
11 0, would you dare to go near them ? The only 
fear I have had is, that poor Gracie may have 
fallen into their hands.” 

“ Why, what harm would they do ? ” asked Uncle 
Moses. 

“ Put her into their dungeons,” said Miss Lee, in 
a tremulous voice. 

Uncle Moses shuddered. At the same time he 
felt it incumbent on him to administer consolation 
to his companion ; and so he struggled against his 
fears, and strove to speak with boldness and confi- 
dent assurance. The result was, that his language 


ASSURANCES OF UNCLE MOSES. 


293 


towards Miss Lee was strikingly like that of Frank 
towards himself, and the very act of talking boldly 
served to revive his own feeble courage. 

u 0, then,” said Miss Lee, at last, “ so yon think 
the police here are not what they used to be.” 

“ Not a mite,” said Uncle Moses ; 11 they’re polite, 
civil, sensible, and humane. They wouldn’t harm 
a fly. It’s all a mistake to think that they air any 
different from the police to home. Why, look at 
me. I’ve been to see ’em, at Venice, and got ’em 
to help me with my boys. An’ so I think we had 
better get their help here.” 


294 


THE WINGED LION. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


Wonderful Change in Uitcle Moses. — The new Friend. — 
New Resolves. — Application to the Police. 



!^pOTHING that had occurred to Uncle Moses, 


course of his travels in 


^frX Italy, gave him such pure delight as his 
meeting with Miss Lee. He liked her gentle face 
and soft voice ; he was touched by her appeal for 
assistance and her trust in him. Above all, he 
was most affected by her timidity, and her nervous 
terrors as to imaginary evils. Her misfortunes 
had been similar to his own. They each could 
sympathize with the other. It was delicious to 
Uncle Moses to meet with some one who was a 
greater coward than himself, and it was most flat- 
tering to his self-esteem, for he had to take up the 
attitude of a superior being towards her. 

“ My dear Miss Lee,” said Uncle Moses, taking 
her hand in an affectionate way and pressing it 
tenderly, — u my dear Miss Lee, don’t you go on 
an’ give yourself any more trouble ; don’t fret or 
worry. I’ll take care of you. Leave all to me. 
Thar ain’t a mite of danger — not a mite. We’ll 
find ’em all safe an’ sound — my boys, Clive and 


THE NEW FRIEND. 


295 


David, an’ your gal, Gracie. I see how it is : 
they’ve all got acquainted in the train, an’ gone 
on to Venice. They all went to the same hotel, 
an’ your Gracie was the Miss Lee that the land- 
lord spoke of. I dar say they’re in Venice yet, 
an’ hev merely gone to lodgin’s. I heard that 
there was a Miss Lee in Verona, an’ thought it 
was the same Miss Lee that the boys had met 
with. I asked the police to send here. Did you 
not hear from them ? ” 

u Not a word,” said Miss Lee. u But how did 
you hear that there was a Miss Lee in Verona? 
That seems strange.” 

“ Why, the police told me that ther’d been peo- 
ple there askin’ them to send to Verona for you.” 

Miss Lee’s face brightened up at this. 

11 Then my friends are there in Venice,” said she. 
u It must be my brother Henry. But how did he 
know that I was at Verona? No doubt Gracie 
told him. They’ve met — of course. I under- 
stand it all now. Gracie’s met her uncle and gone 
to his hotel, and the boys have gone with him.” 

u They’re not at any hotel in Venice,” said Uncle 
Moses. “ The police hunted everywhere.” 

“ 0, well, they’re at some lodgings.” 

u 0, the fact is,” said Uncle Moses, cheerily, 
“ they’re all right. There ain’t a mite of danger 
— not a mite ; so don’t you bother your head any 
longer about it. Cheer up, marm, an’ put a good 
face on it. Why, look at me ; I’ve lost two, an’ 


296 


THE WINGED LION. 


you’ve only lost one. Wal, do I mourn an’ lament? 
Do I despair ? Not a mite. Why, at this moment 
I’m as merry as a cricket. I know the boys air 
safe, an’ that we’ll meet ’em all the minute we go 
back to Venice.” 

At this moment the conversation was interrupted 
by the arrival of Frank and Bob. So deeply inter- 
ested had Uncle Moses and Miss Lee been in their 
conversation, that they heard nothing of the ap- 
proach of the new comers, and Uncle Moses had 
gone on talking in a way that indicated the 
greatest boldness and confidence. Frank and 
Bob heard his last words, and were full of amaze- 
ment. Was it possible that this could be their 
Uncle Moses ? What a change had come over 
him ! They had left him weak, feeble, crushed, 
and despairing, without spirit enough to say a 
word ; they found him strong, spirited, animated, 
bold, speaking words of hope and confidence. 
They saw that the strange lady was an Ameri- 
can, and could only conclude that Uncle Moses 
had heard from her good news, which had wrought 
upon him this great change. 

In a few moments all was explained, and the 
quick wit of Frank made him see at once the full 
bearing of this unexpected meeting with Miss Lee 
upon their own business. Uncle Moses stated the 
conclusions to which he had already come, and 
then added, — 

“ So you see, Frank, there ain’t a mite of doubt 


NEW RESOLVE. 


297 


about it ; the boys were in Venice all the time, an’ 
if we hadn’t ben so impatient, we’d have found them 
by this time.” 

By the tone in which Uncle Moses spoke these 
words, one would have supposed that he had never 
known what it was to be anxious. Frank at once 
chimed in with his uncle’s altered mood, and find- 
ing his occupation of comforter gone, he humbly 
asked what he intended to do now. 

“ Do ? ” said Uncle Moses. “ Why, go back to 
Venice.” 

“ Yes, I think that is the best plan,” said Frank. 
u And when can you start ? ” 

“ Why, to-day,” said Uncle Moses ; u that is, if 
Miss Lee is ready.” 

“ When does the next train leave ? ” asked Miss 
Lee. 

11 In a half an hour,” said Frank. 

“ 0, I’m afraid I couldn’t get ready by that time,” 
said Miss Lee. u You must go without me.” 

“ No,” said Uncle Moses ; “ we must all go to- 
gether. We’ll wait till you are ready. If we sepa- 
rate now, we may never meet again, and may miss 
the rest of ’em, too.” 

“ I’m very sorry,” said Miss Lee, “ to be unable 
to go, but I could not pack up in so short a time ; 
but if you do not mind waiting, why, of course I 
shall be deeply grateful.” 

11 Wait? Of course we’ll wait,” said Uncle Moses. 
“ Arter all, it ain’t goin’ to make any difference — 


298 


THE WINGED LION. 


not a mite ; an’ to go without you won’t be a bit 
of use. So we’ll wait, an’ all go together. As 
we’ve suffered together, so shall we rejice to- 
gether.” 

11 1 suppose,” said Miss Lee, “ there would be no 
harm in sending word to Venice, to tell them that 
we are here and are coming.” 

u No harm,” said Uncle Moses ; “ course not. 
On’y I’d like to know who to send it to. The 
parties who were inquirin’ arter you didn’t give 
their address to me. They left it with the police. 
And then none of us knows where Clive, or David, 
or your niece may be.” 

“ Wouldn’t it be better to get the police here 
to send a message to the police in Venice?” said 
Frank. 

“ Course it would,” said Uncle Moses. “ That’s 
the very pint I was cornin’ to. That’s our plan. 
Let’s go right straight off to the police.” 

“ The police ! ” repeated Miss Lee, with a startled 
look. 

“ Yes,” said Uncle Moses. “ We’ll tell ’em how 
it is. Get ’em to send a message to the Venetian 
police, who will communicate with your friends ; 
and at the same time, urge them to look up Clive 
and David. I dar say they’ve found them by this 
time, if they railly air in Venice. An’ as to the 
police,” continued Lhncle Moses, directing his re- 
marks to Miss Lee, “ don’t you go an’ give your- 
self one mite of trouble about that. The police 



In the Hanes of the Police. — Page 498. 
























































































































APPLICATION TO THE POLICE. 


299 


here air no more than the police in Boston. Jest 
imagine that you air safe at home, an’ drop all 
these superstitious fears about the police. Why, 
you’re as safe here as in Massachusetts. This 
here’s a free government, an’ they’ve got habeas 
corpus, trial by jury, vote by ballot, an’ a free con- 
stitution. So what more do you want ? ” 

These words, which greatly re-assured Miss Lee, 
sounded at once strange and delicious to Frank. 
He had been using almost the same words during 
the last few days, to console and re-assure the very 
same Uncle Moses, who now repeated them so 
boldly and confidently. He wondered at the 
change, and could not imagine the cause ; yet 
that change was very pleasant to him, to whom 
his uncle’s deep dejection had been a very sore 
trial. 

They now left the Amphitheatre, and went at 
once to the police station. Here Jdiere was an 
interpreter, by whose aid they were able to make 
known their wants. Unfortunately the interpret- 
er’s English was rather shaky, and some little 
misunderstanding arose, which afterwards led to 
results that for a time were unpleasant. 

Frank was the spokesman, as Uncle Moses had 
greater confidence in his ability to deal with 
foreigners than in his own. He therefore made 
known the situation in as few words as possible, 
not forgetting to bestow a handsome fee, the re- 
ception of which at once seemed to stimulate the 
rather drowsy zeal of the officials. 


300 


THE WINGED LION. 


Frank informed them of the facts of the case, 
just as they were, and these plain facts were trans- 
lated in such a way that the officials received a 
somewhat different impression from that which was 
intended. 

They understood that David, and Clive, and 
Gracie had all run away from their guardians, and 
had met somewhere by a preconcerted arrange- 
ment, after which they had concealed themselves 
in Venice, and that the guardians, having just 
learned of their hiding-place, were anxious that 
they should be found, and arrested at once, and 
detained until they should go on to Venice them- 
selves. These guardians were anxious also that it 
should be done this very day, for fear lest the fugi- 
tives might escape them. 

This the Verona police promised to do, and that 
very hour they sent off a telegraphic despatch to 
the V enetian police, ordering the immediate arrest 
of the fugitives. 


THE RUNAWAYS. 


301 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Clive and David . — Unwelcome Visitors. — Arrested . — 
Hauled to Prison. — The Dungeons of Venice. — Despair 
of the Captives. 

f ERNON’S last visit to the Venetian police 
had made them well acquainted with the 
fact that he had with him two boys whose 
uncle he wished to find, and the young lady after 
whose aunt he had been searching. Accordingly, 
when they received the despatch from Verona, it 
seemed a part of the same business which had 
been brought before them in various ways and from 
various quarters during the past few days. It 
seemed like a summary ending to that business, 
and it was a thing that lay entirely in their power. 
They knew perfectly well what Vernon’s address 
was; they knew that the fugitives mentioned in 
the despatch were all there ; and so they proceeded 
to carry the demand of the Veronese police into 
execution. 

Vernon had gone away with his mother and 
Gracie. David and Clive had been left, with the 
strictest instructions to take care of themselves, 
and not get into any fresh difficulty. These in- 


302 


THE WINGED LION. 


structions they had received with deep humility, 
and had promised to obey them to the very letter. 
After seeing their friends off at the station, they 
had returned to Vernon’s house, and there discussed 
in a mournful way their situation and prospects. 
Their pleasant excitement had now all passed away. 
Sight-seeing could no longer interest them. There 
was always present before their minds the image 
of the distracted Uncle Moses, seeking for the run- 
aways, and finding them not' ; tracing them in town 
after town, as far as Venice, only to lose them at 
last. And now, where had he gone ? or what was 
he proposing to do? To give them up? Impossi- 
ble. He seemed rather to be entering upon a 
search which was far away from the right direc- 
tion, and would only lead to fresh disappointment 
and renewed anxiety. He had gone to Verona, 
but might already have left that place ; and although 
they both longed to join him again, yet they knew 
not where to go, and could only rely upon Vernon. 
They reproached themselves most bitterly for their 
thoughtlessness, and these sad feelings deprived 
them of all capacity for enjoyment. Venice had 
now lost all its charms. They were alone in the 
house, with only the housekeeper and one servant, 
who could be no company for them. Besides, they 
missed Vernon, and his mother, and Gracie, whose 
company had made the past few days so pleasant. 
All these things combined to make them feel mis- 
erable enough, and so they returned from the rail- 


UNWELCOME VISITORS. 


303 


way station to mope about the house. In this way 
they passed the morning. 

But youthful minds are elastic, and it is impossi- 
ble, under ordinary circumstances, for the pressure 
of grief to last very long. David and Clive found 
themselves gradually rallying; and although they 
both preserved an aspect of gloom, still they al- 
lowed their thoughts to wander freely over pleas- 
ant subjects, and spent some agreeable hours in 
turning over pictures, and in reading. At last, Da- 
vid, in his most sepulchral tone, proposed that they 
should go to the Piazza of St. Mark, alleging as an 
excuse that he had a bad headache, and wanted 
some fresh air and exercise. To this proposal 
Clive assented in gloomy silence, and so they pre- 
pared to start. 

Just as they were going down stairs, however, 
they found themselves face to face with some po- 
licemen, who were coming up. These policemen 
looked at them with very significant faces, and be- 
fore they knew what to think they found themselves 
arrested, and heard words in which they detected, 
u Prigionieri,” 11 fuggitivi,” u arrestovi in nome del 
Re,” with some others, all of which were intelligi- 
ble enough even to one who had but a slender ac- 
quaintance with the Italian language. 

They were detained for some time in the lower 
hall, while the police went up to Vernon’s apart- 
ments. After a time they came back, and David 
and Clive were able to make out that they had 


304 


THE WINGED LION. ' 


gone in search of Signorina Lee, and that they 
had not been able to find her. In the midst of 
their perplexity, terror, and dismay, the two boys 
felt glad indeed that Grade was safe, out of 
danger, and that she had not been left behind to 
share their terrific fate. 

Terrific ! — that was the word, for indeed to be 
arrested by the police in any European city is a 
serious thing ; but who can think without a shud- 
der of an arrest by the police of Venice? At any 
rate, Clive and David could not. All their past 
knowledge of Venice, all that they had heard from 
Vernon, and seen with their own eyes, came before 
their minds. The Venetian police — what a terri- 
ble significance was there in that name ! What hor- 
rors lay in the past history of that police ! — a his- 
tory associated with hideous memories of dungeon, 
and rack, and agony, and despair. True, the worst 
of their tortures had been abolished ; but the habit 
of cruelty might be strong ; and who could tell 
what deeds of darkness were still perpetrated by 
the dread tribunal which now presided over the 
affairs of this mysterious city ! 

After a further delay, they were taken to the po- 
lice boat, and away they knew not where. As they 
vrent away they hoped to learn something about 
the cause of their arrest, but were disappointed. 
Nothing was said. None of the faces were familiar, 
and none were at all inviting. They all looked 
like machines — the soulless instruments of a cruel 


TAKEN TO PRISON. 


305 


law. The sight of these grim and silent men made 
Clive and David sink down into deeper dejection 
and despair. 

At length they reached the police station, and 
were taken inside. Here they found some officials 
who regarded them with looks in which there was 
no trace of softness or pity. Clive roused himself, 
and asked in English if there was an interpreter to 
be had ; but no notice was taken of his words. 
Then David, encouraged by Clive’s boldness, ven- 
tured upon a few Italian words. He looked at one 
of the officials, who seemed to be the chief, and 
said, — 

11 Yogliamo un interpreter. Siamo Americani — 
e vogliamo vedere il Consule Americano.” 

This was bad Italian, and spoken with an ab- 
surdly foreign accent; yet it was intelligible enough, 
and David hoped to effect something by it. His 
hopes, however, were vain. No notice whatever 
was taken of his words. It was just the same as if 
they had not been spoken. The officials conversed 
for a while among themselves, and then one of them 
beckoned to another. This last took David and 
Clive by the arms, and led them out of the room 
and into a long hall, which they traversed, and at 
length stopped in front of a door. This was opened, 
and their guide motioned to them to go in. They 
did so. He then locked the door, and they heard 
his retreating footsteps as he walked away. 

This was the most awful moment, in their lives ; 

20 


306 


THE WINGED LION. 


a moment which far exceeded anything that they 
had ever known, and which could only be compared, 
in point of utter horror, to some of those terrific 
situations which the mind may invent in a night- 
mare dream. Standing motionless and mute, star- 
ing at one another with pallid faces, the two 
wretched boys saw nothing, and heard nothing, and 
thought of nothing. Terror had almost taken away 
their senses. The whole incident of the arrest had 
been at once so sudden, so terrible, so overwhelm- 
ing, that they were only conscious of some fearful 
doom impending over them. 

The room was not a dungeon, however, and 
though somewhat dreary, had nothing in it which 
of itself might inspire terror. It was a room with 
plain walls, lighted by a small window that seemed 
to look out on a court-yard. There were two beds, 
two chairs, a table, and a wash-stand. There w^as 
certainly something cheerless in its aspect, yet, 
after all, it was a commonplace room enough, and 
might have belonged to some Italian inn, as well 
as to the Venetian police. 

It w^as this that at length served to dispel to 
some extent the first horror which they had felt, 
and to change it to a feeling of simple anxiety. 
Clive was the first to speak. 

"Well,” said he, as he drew a long breath, “ I’d 
give something to know what all this may mean.” 

David heaved a very heavy sigh. 

" I don’t know,” said he, dolefully. " I don’t un- 
derstand.” 


DELIBERATIONS. 


307 


“ I wonder if Yernon can have had anything to 
do with any revolutionary movements. He may 
have been denounced, and that may have been the 
reason why he ran away.” 

“ He didn’t run away,” said David. 11 Besides, 
he wouldn’t have sacrificed us.” 

“ 0, we shan’t be sacrificed,” said Clive, in a 
more cheerful tone. “ We’ve been arrested ; but 
when they find out that we’ve had nothing to do 
with it, they’ll let us go.” 

u 0, I don’t think it’s anything of that sort,” said 
David. “ They don’t get up revolutions in Italy 
now, or conspiracies, for Italy’s a free country.” 

“ A queer kind of freedom,” said Clive. 

11 Well, I think,” said David, u that there’s some 
other cause for this ; and such a cause as may 
have led to our arrest anywhere — even in New 
York.” 

“ How ? ” 

u Well — there’s Gracie.” 

11 What of her ? What’s she got to do with it ? ” 
11 0, well, she left her aunt, and perhaps her 
aunt has set the police to find her; and we’ve been 
seen with her, so they’ve arrested us. You know 
they were trying to find her. Now, I believe they 
came after her especially, and merely took us be- 
cause they had seen us with her.” 
u How could they see us with her ? ” 

“ 0, easily enough. Why, Clive, Venice is all 
crammed full of spies.” 


308 


THE WINGED LION. 


u What for ? ” 

“ Why, just for nothing at all, and that’s the 
worst of it. But the trouble is, they don’t under- 
stand yet how to govern in a free country ; and 
though Italy is free, the police, just out of old habit, 
still keep up their old style of spying, and poking 
their noses into other people’s business, and watch- 
ing everything. It’ll take another hundred years 
before Italy can be like America — perhaps five 
hundred.” 

“ I should think so,” said Clive. 

“ Now, in New York,” said David, u we could 
send for a lawyer, and he would get us out on 
bail.” 

a Who would give us bail ? ” 

“ I don’t know. At any rate he’d get us out ; 
for no one ever heard of two innocent boys being 
arrested in America. 0, a lawyer could get us out 
fast enough.” 

“ Well, why mayn’t a lawyer get us out of this ? ” 

u I hope he may, if they’ll only let us have one ; 
but, unfortunately, we seem to be so much in their 
power that I do not know how we can begin to do 
anything. You see I asked for the American con- 
sul.” 

“ So you did.” 

u And, you know, they wouldn’t take any notice 
of what I said.” 

“ No,” said Clive, mournfully ; 11 and this shows 
that they mean to be severe with us. The fact is, 


CONVERSATION IN PRISON. 


309 


I cannot help thinking that they’ve made some ab- 
surd blunder about it all.” 

“ A blunder ? ” 

u Yes ; they’ve mistaken us for some one else.” 

“ That’s not unlikely.” 

“ Why, it’s very likely indeed. For what earthly 
reason could they have to arrest a couple of boys 
like us ? What have we ever done ? Haven’t we 
been as quiet as mice ? Can you imagine a single 
thing that we have ever done which they could tor- 
ture into any offence against the laws ? ” 

“ Certainly not,” said David. 11 We’ve done 
wrong in one way, of course, but not in a way that 
the Venetian government could notice. For you 
see, Clive, we did wrong in leaving Bologna with- 
out hearing from Uncle Moses. I can imagine how 
he must have suffered. We’ve been enjoying our- 
selves all along, while he’s been tormented with 
anxiety. Well, our enjoyment’s over now, at any 
rate, and I’m prepared to take this as a sort of 
punishment for wrong-doing, and bear it like a 
man.” 

u 0, that’s all very well,” said Clive ; “ but at the 
same time it is an undeniable fact that no one has 
any right to keep us here in prison. It’s an out- 
rage on the rights of free Americans.” 

In this way they passed the remainder of the 
day. Evening came, and their dinner was brought. 
It consisted of cold meats, with coffee. It was not 
a bad dinner, and the boys, in spite of their anxiety 


310 


THE WINGED LION. 


and trouble, were ravenously hungry. They ate 
their dinner, therefore, with great satisfaction ; and 
the only fault that they had to find with it was, that 
there was not quite enough. Then evening deep- 
ened into night. They had no lights ; so they went 
to bed, and soon fell fast asleep. 

They slept so soundly that they did not awake 
until their jailer entered with breakfast. Then 
they arose and partook of their morning meal. 
When the jailer reappeared, they tried to make 
known to him, in their broken Italian, the desire 
which they had to see the American consul ; but 
the jailer either could not or would not under- 
stand them. In vain they made use of all their 
knowledge, not only of the Italian, but even the 
Latin language. At every new trial the jailer 
would smile, and nod, and make gestures, which 
indicated everything but a comprehension of their 
meaning. > It was evident to them both that no 
help could be looked for in that quarter. 

The jailer removed the dishes and departed. 
Now there arose before them the long, long, dreary 
day. Their imprisonment began to seem serious, 
inasmuch as they found themselves utterly helpless, 
and unable to do a single thing towards gaining a 
hearing of their case. 

“ It’s a curious way to treat harmless travellers,” 
said Clive ; “ and it seems to me to be a perfectly 
horrible violation of the most sacred rights of free 
Americans.” 


DESPONDENCY. 


311 


“ 0, what’s the use of talking of free Ameri- 
cans?” said David, gloomily. “ We’re Americans, 
and we’re not free, and have no prospect of free- 
dom. How can we say or do anything? We’re 
buried alive here, beyond the reach of our friends, 
out of their sight, and with no hope of having any 
communication with them. 0, if Yernon would 
only come back ! But he’s gone off upon a jour- 
ney that may be a long one, and who can tell when 
he’ll return ? When he does come back, he’ll forget 
all about us ; he’ll think that we’ve gone away our- 
selves, just as we went away from Uncle Moses. 
I’ve no confidence in the Venetian police. I’m 
afraid they keep up something of their old habits 
of severity, and though they’ve abolished the tor- 
ture, still they like to keep people in prison as long 
as they can.” 

Clive said nothing in reply. David’s despondent 
frame of mind was communicated to him, and they 
both were filled with the most gloomy forebodings. 


312 


THE WINGED LION. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 



The Police once more. — An affecting Meeting. — Grand 
Reunion at the Hotel Zeno . — Uncle Moses causes a great 
Surprise. 

0 sooner had Uncle Moses arrived at Venice, 
^ than he was eager to learn whether any- 
thing had been found out about Clive and 
David — a feeling which was shared by the others, 
and particularly by Miss Lee, who was as anxious 
about Gracie as Uncle Moses was for his lost boys. 
And so, as soon as possible, Uncle Moses proceeded 
to the Police Bureau, accompanied by Frank and 
Bob, leaving Miss Lee at the hotel to await their 
return. 

To their first eager inquiry, the official gave an 
answer which filled them with delight. 

“ Found dem ? 0, yais ; we did finda dems.” 

“ Where ?” asked Frank, eagerly. 

“ 0, at de ouse of a friends — an Americano.” 

“ An American ! Who is he ? What’s his name ? 
Where does he live ? ” 

“ Is name, eet ees Vairnon,” said the official. 

“ Vernon, Vernon ? I don’t know him.” 

" De signorina dat you name in de telegram, we 
did not finda. She gon away.” 


THE BOYS AND THE POLICE. 


313 


u Gone ! Where ? ” 

The official shrugged his shoulders. 

11 0, she gon away wit Vairnon.” 

“ 0, gone away with Yernon. And the boys — 
where were they ? Did you find them ? ” 

“ 0, yais, we dit find em.” 

“ Where are they ? Will you give us the ad- 
dress ?” asked Frank, eagerly. “ We want to see 
them at once — as soon as possible.” 

“ 0, yais, you sail see dem as soon as possibile,” 
said the official, with a smile. 

Frank, who now considered himself well up in 
Italian ways, here put some money into the hand 
of this smiling functionary, and said, — 

“ Can’t you send some one with us to show us 
the place, so that we may find it with the least pos- 
sible delay?” 

“ 0, yais,” was the reply. “ All aright. You sail 
haf no delay. Dey ere.” 

“ Here ! ” exclaimed Frank. 

“ O, yais ; ere in dis ouse, secure, an all aright.” 
“ Do you mean to say,” cried Frank, “ that they 
are here in this house ? ” 

u 0, yais, dat ees eet ; an I sail haf dems bote 
brought out right away. You wait un moment.” 

With these words the official withdrew, leaving 
his visitors in a state of delight inexpressible. 
Uncle Moses, indeed, felt somewhat shocked at 
finding his boys thus turn up in prison, after all 
their wanderings ; but the idea of finding them 


314 


THE WINGED LION. 


was of itself so delightful that it overshadowed 
everything else, and he awaited the return of the 
official with trembling eagerness. Bob was, how- 
ever, immensely amused at this. He nudged Frank 
with his elbow, and said, — 

“ I say, Frank, I rather think they’ll know as 
much about Venice as I did, prisons and all; but, 
0, isn’t it rich to think of the poetic Clive and 
sober-sided David turning up here? I say, Frank, 
your turn’ll have to come. You’ll be the next one 
here, and then poor Uncle Moses’ll have to take 
his turn.” 

They were not left long in suspense ; but after a 
few minutes the official returned, along with Clive 
and David. The joy on both sides was equal, and 
was too great for words. They all clung to one 
another in a promiscuous manner, and could not 
speak. Uncle Moses was too full of happiness to 
think of reproaching the runaways, and they were 
too full of thankfulness to find any words of excuse 
or apology. All these things had to be deferred to 
a future occasion. 

Before leaving, Frank made a few more inquiries 
about Gracie ; but Clive told him that he could in- 
form him all about that ; so they took their depart- 
ure, and returned to the Hotel Zeno. On the way 
Clive and David told them all about the cause of 
Vernon’s departure, and of Gracie’s journey with 
him, which information made them stop at the 
telegraph office, and despatch several messages to 


AN AFFECTING MEETING. 


315 


Vernon, directed to the various hotels at Verona, 
and one also to the police, requesting that Vernon 
be acquainted with Miss Lee’s arrival at Venice. 
They felt certain that some of these messages would 
reach their destination. 

After this they returned to the Hotel Zeno. On 
the way Clive and David told the whole story of 
their wanderings, and Uncle Moses told all about 
his journey after them ; and with these explana- 
tions were mingled all those expressions of con- 
trition on the one hand, and of forgiveness on the 
other, which the occasion demanded. 

On reaching the Hotel Zeno, they went at once 
to see Miss Lee, to tell her the news. They found 
her surrounded by a party of people who were 
strangers to them, but were evidently the dearest 
possible friends to Miss Lee. A suspicion came 
to them as to who these new comers might be, and 
this was soon confirmed by Miss Lee herself, who 
introduced to them her brother, Mr. Henry Lee, 
his wife, and two cousins. They had come to 
Venice the evening before, and having heard of 
her arrival, had hastened to welcome her. They 
had just heard her story, and were, therefore, full 
of anxiety about Gracie. This anxiety, however, 
was soon calmed by the information which Uncle 
Moses gave, and the mention of Vernon’s name 
seemed to carry with it additional assurance that 
all would be well. 

“Vernon,” said Mr. Henry Lee. “ 0, I know 


316 


THE WINGED LION. 


him very well indeed, and his mother, too. She 
left Boston some time since to join him here. He 
is doing finely, and already has a great reputation 
as an artist. He has a most brilliant future before 
him. Gracie has certainly fallen among pleasant 
friends.’ 7 

“We found her first,” said Clive, proudly. “ We 
met her in the cars.” 

(i 0, you did ? ” said Mr. Lee ; and thereupon he 
made Clive tell him all about it. Clive did so, and 
told him, in addition, all about their flight from their 
uncle, their various wanderings, and final fate. 

Mr. Lee laughed more than once, and at length 
said, — 

“ Well, boys, your Uncle Moses, with you, seems 
to me like a hen that has hatched a brood of ducks. 
After endless trouble with them, she sees them all 
take to the water.” 

u Yes,” said Clive, “ that’s what we did. I sup- 
pose coming to Venice may be called taking to the 
water.” 

11 Well,” said Bob, “ I took to the water in real 
earnest ; but the police were too much for me.” 

11 Yes,” said Mr. Lee, “ you’ve had your fling, and 
you’ve suffered for it. For the future you ought 
to learn to be more careful. Mind, I’m not giving 
you advice. Advice, by itself, is generally of very 
little use. Wisdom 1 doesn’t come by advice, but 
by experience, and you’ve had an experience which 
ought to teach you a good lesson.” 


REUNION AT THE HOTEL ZENO. 


317 


The only thing now needed to complete the hap- 
piness of all was the return of Gracie ; but it was 
felt that she was in good hands, and that the vari- 
ous telegrams would certainly reach Vernon before 
he could think of leaving Verona. It was expected 
that he would receive them that day, and that he 
would come back by the first train on the follow- 
ing day. Accordingly Frank, Bob, David, and 
Clive entreated Uncle Moses to let them go to the 
station and meet them. This request was granted 
without any demur. Uncle Moses seemed to have 
lost much of his former anxious timidity. Mr. Lee 
was desirous of meeting Gracie on her arrival ; so 
he went with them, and at the proper time they all 
stood awaiting the advent of the train. 

In the mean time, as has been shown, Vernon had 
learned about Miss Lee’s departure for Venice with 
Uncle Moses and Frank and Bob, while the tele- 
grams that he afterwards received confirmed the 
news in the fullest manner. Although he would 
have liked to travel all over Italy with Gracie, yet 
he did not hesitate a moment about returning home ; 
and so, as the party waited in the station-house, the 
train arrived, and Vernon, with his mother and 
Gracie, got out. 

There was now a very joyous meeting, and Ver- 
non, who, with his mother, accompanied them to 
the Hotel Zeno, saw Gracie restored to her guar- 
dian aunt. 

That evening Vernon’s home seemed lonely to 


818 


THE WINGED LION. 


him, and he missed the sweet companionship that, 
for a few happy days, had filled it with sunshine. 
But Gracie, though no longer a visitor in his house, 
was still in Venice, and it was the intention of her 
friends to stay there some time. 

All that time was spent by Vernon in the ex- 
clusive devotion of himself to Gracie. There 
were many things to be seen. He revisited the 
old scenes in company with the whole party, and 
many new ones. He had many more stories in his 
manuscript, and these he read to them now under 
the arcades of palaces, again while floating lazily 
in the gondola, and yet again in the evening at the 
Hotel Zeno. ‘They were also often at his house, 
looking at his pictures or sketches, and seeing the 
vivid portrayal of the very events which he had 
been narrating. These days were quite as pleas- 
ant to Gracie as the old ones, and in one respect 
pleasanter, since the anxiety that formerly lay 
beneath all her enjoyment had now altogether 
passed away, and there was nothing to think of 
except the present and its delights. 

Uncle Moses did not accompany them in these 
wanderings. He excused himself on the ground 
that he had seen enough of sights. So he re- 
mained at home in the hotel. As a general thing 
Miss Lee also remained at home. She, too, de- 
clared that she did not care for sight-seeing, and 
thus it happened that the sudden and sympathetic 
friendship which had sprung up between Uncle 


CHANGE IN UNCLE MOSES* DEMEANOR. 319 


Moses and Miss Lee in the Amphitheatre at Ve- 
rona, grew stronger and still more sympathetic at 
Venice. Uncle Moses was certainly very much 
changed for the better. He had lost all his former 
fidgety ways, and seemed no longer to be tor- 
mented by that eternal anxiety about the boys 
which hitherto had been the bane of his exist- 
ence. The boys were free now to go where they 
liked. They were always off at an early hour, and 
never back till dark. All the same to Uncle Moses. 
He had Miss Lee as his companion, and in her so- 
ciety he seemed to find a grave, calm, quiet satis- 
faction, that made him feel like a new man. 

He was very fond of telling her this. 
u You seem/’ said he, u somehow or nother, to 
hev made a new man of me. I used to be the for- 
lornedest creetur you ever see, but now I feel like 
a man, and I’m railly twenty years younger than I 
was before I met you. An* I railly don't know 
what to make of it. It beats me, it doos, railly.’* 
At such remarks as these Miss Lee always used 
to smile upon Uncle Moses so sweetly, that he 
thought her face like the face of some of the saints 
that he had seen in cathedrals. 

Several weeks passed away in this pleasant fash- 
ion, and the Lees were already talking of leaving 
Venice, when one day Vernon came to see Miss 
Lee. 

His errand was one of a very important kind, 
and Vernon soon explained it. He informed her 


320 


THE WINGED LION. 


that his affections were very deeply engaged with 
Gracie, and that if she were to leave him now, he 
would be the most miserable of men ; that Gracie 
had consented to make him happy, and that he had 
come to her to ask her consent. 

Vernon’s information was far more circumloc- 
utory than this, and was accompanied with many 
hesitations and some embarrassments, as is natural 
in such a delicate matter ; but Miss Lee’s manner 
was full of encouragement, and she listened to his 
words with a smile. 

“ 0, I’ve seen how it was,” said she. “ I ex- 
pected this ; but, then, isn’t Gracie altogether too 
young ? ” 

“ 0, she’s young, certainly,” said Vernon ; u but 
that is a thing which will be remedied in the course 
of time.” 

The end of it was, that Miss Lee gave her con- 
sent, but asked Vernon to see her brother about 
it ; which Vernon promised to do. 

After his departure, Miss Lee told Uncle Moses, 
and that good man was moved with feelings of the 
deepest sympathy for Miss Lee’s forlorn condition. 

u Dear, dear, dear ! ” he exclaimed. “ So you’re 
goin’ to lose her ! Why, you’ll be quite alone in 
the world ! Now, I s’pose you’ll feel dreadful lone- 
ly — won’t you ? ” 

u 0, yes,” said Miss Lee. 

“ Why, it’s jest like losin’ a darter,” said Uncle 
Moses. 


COURTSHIP. 


321 


u 0, quite/’ said Miss Lee, with a long sigh. 

u And then your brother has his own house, an’ 
his own fambly matters.” 

u 0, yes.” 

u I ben thinkin’ of this for a long time,” said 
Uncle Moses, after a pause. u I saw how it was, 
— it’s alius the way with the young folks, — an’ I 
thought you’d be lonely, jest like me. Now you 
know I’m alius lonely.” 

“ Are you ? ” said Miss Lee, looking at him in a 
very sympathetic manner. 

“ Alius,” said Uncle Moses. u Do you ever feel 
lonely ? I s’pose not.” 

“ 0, yes,” said Miss Lee. 

“ Often?” inquired Uncle Moses, in a tender 
voice. 

u 0, always,” said Miss Lee. 

“ Dear, dear, dear! on’y think of that,” said Uncle 
Moses. “ An’ do you feel very lonely ? ” 

u 0, very,” said Miss Lee. 

" So do I,” said Uncle Moses, in a rueful voice ; 
a an’ when you go, it’ll be wuss than ever.” 

Miss Lee sighed. 

Uncle Moses drew nearer, looking at her with 
meek inquiry. Then he took her hand. 

“ Don’t go,” said he, in a low voice. u Don’t 
leave me, my dear, dear Miss Lee. Stay with me. 
I never saw anybody that I liked half so well. It’s 
true, I’m a leetle old ; but, then, better late than 
never ; an’ I don’t see how I can live, if I lose you 
21 


322 


THE WINGED LION. 


— I don’t, railly. Don’t leave me. Won’t you stay 
with me, my dear, dear Miss Lee, an’ be my own — 
wife ? ” 

As Uncle Moses was speaking, he drew Miss Lee 
nearer to him, and the good lady let her head rest 
on his manly shoulder. 

“ 0, what’ll they say ! ” she ejaculated ; and that 
was all that she said. But this was enough for 
Uncle Moses. Joy and exultation illumined his 
eyes. 

u Say,” said he, in bold, manly, and defiant tones. 
“ Who cares what they say? I don’t. You need 
not. I’ll talk to ’em. Don’t you fret. It’ll be all 
right. I’ll take all the responsibility, an’ you will 
be all my life to me what you have been for these 
last few weeks — a ministering angel, a heavenly 
comfort, a sweet companion, — everything.” 

Great was the surprise of the friends of this af- 
fectionate pair when they learned the news. Ver- 
non and Gracie were so evidently in love that no 
one expected anything else of them, though not a 
single soul had suspected this of Uncle Moses and 
Miss Lee. But the first surprise soon passed away, 
and then every one felt very well satisfied. Mr. 
Lee was glad that his sister had at length met with 
some one who could make her happy ; Gracie was 
full of affectionate sympathy, and poured forth the 
warmest congratulations ; while all the boys re- 
joiced over the happiness of their beloved Uncle 


MARRIAGE. 


323 


Moses. His adventures in foreign parts had 
brought him little else than misery, but now he 
would be amply repaid for all that he had en- 
dured. 

These things caused a further delay in Venice, 
but at length there came an end to their stay. The 
two bridegrooms led to the altar their blushing 
brides, and then, after an affectionate adieu to their 
friends, the boys departed with Uncle Moses and 
their new aunt. 


> 


AMERICAN BOYS’ SERIES 


The books selected for this series arts 
all thoroughly American, by such favo- 
rite American authors of boys’ books 
as Oliver Optic, Elijah Kellogg, Prof. 
James DeMille, and others, now made 
for the first time at a largely reduced 
price, in order to bring them within the 
reach of all. Each volume complete 
in itself. 

Uniform Cloth Binding Illus- 
trated New and Attractive Dies 
Price per volume $ 1.00 


1. Adrift in the Ice Fields By Capt. Chas. W. Hall 

2. All Aboard or Life on the Lake By Oliver Optic 

3. Ark of Elm Island By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

4. Arthur Brown the Young Captain By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 
6. Boat Club, The, or the Bunkers of Rippleton By Oliver Optic 

6. Boy Farmers of Elm Island, The By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

7. Boys of Grand Pr£ School By Prof. James DeMille 

8. 41 B. O. W. C.”, The By Prof. James DeMille 

9. Brought to the Front or the Young Defenders By Rev. 

Elijah Kellogg 

10. Burying the Hatchet or the Young Brave of the Delawares 

By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

11. Cast Away in the Cold By Dr. Isaac I. Hayes 

12. Charlie Bell the Waif of Elm Island By Rev. Elijah 

Kellogg 

13. Child of the Island Glen By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

14. Crossing the Quicksands By Samuel W. Cozzens 

15. Cruise of the Casco By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

16. Fire in the Woods By Prof. James DeMille 

17. Fisher Boys of Pleasant Cove By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

18. Forest Glen or the Mohawk’s Friendship B> Rev. Elijah 

Kellogg 

19. Good Old Times By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

20. Hardscrabble of Elm Island By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

21. Haste or Waste or the Young Pilot of Lake Champlain 

By Oliver Optic 

22. Hope and Have By Oliver Optic 

23. In School and Out or the Conquest of Richard Gran* By 

Oliver Optic 

24. John Godsoe’s Legacy By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 



LEE and SHEPARD Publishers Boston 


AMERICAN BOYS’ SERIES — Continued 


25. Just His Luck By Oliver Optic 

26. Lion Ben of Elm Island By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

27. Little by Little or the Cruise of the Elyaway By Oliver 

Optic 

28. Live Oak Boys or the Adventures of Richard Constable 

Afloat and Ashore By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

29. Lost in the Fog By Prof. James DeMille 

30. Mission of Black Rifle or On the Trail By Rev. Elijah 

Kellogg 

31. Now or Never or the Adventures of Bobby Bright By 

Oliver Optic 

32. Poor and Proud or the Fortunes or Kate Redburn By 

Oliver Optic 

33. Rich and Humble or the Mission of Bertha Grant By 

Oliver Optic 

34. Sophomores of Radcliffe or James Trafton and His Bos- 

ton Friends By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

35. Sowed by the Wind or the Poor Boy’s Fortune By Rev. 

Elijah Kellogg 

36. Spark of Genius or the College Life of James Trafton By 

Elijah Kellogg 

37. Stout Heart or the Student from Over the Sea By Rev. 

Elijah Kellogg 

38. Strong Arm and a Mother’s Blessing By Rev. Elijah 

Kellogg 

39. Treasure of the Sea By Prof. James DeMille 

40. Try Again or the Trials and Triumphs of Harry West By 

Oliver Optic 

41. Turning of the Tide or Radcliffe Rich and his Patients 

By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

42. Unseen Hand or James Renfew and His Boy Helpers By 

Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

43. Watch and Wait or the Young Fugitives By Oliver 

Optic 

44. Whispering Pine or the Graduates of Radcliffe By Rev. 

Elijah Kellogg 

45. Winning His Spurs or Henry Morton’s First Trial By Rer 

Elijah Kellogg 

46. Wolf Run or the Boys of the Wilderness By Rev. Elijah 

Kellogg 

47. Work and Win or Noddy Newman on a Cruise By Oliver 

Optic 

48. Young Deliverers of Pleasant Cove By Rev. Elijah 

Kellogg 

49. Young Shipbuilders of Elm Island By Rev. Elijah 

Kellogg 

50. Young Trail Hunters By Samuel W. Cozzens 


LEE and SHEPARD Publishers Boston 


PATRIOTIC SERIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS 

“ Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our li w es sublime.” 

The volumes included in this 
series tend to inculcate the spirit 
of patriotism and good citizenship. 
The boys and girls of to-day are 
here made acquainted with the lives 
and characters of many noble men 
and women of this and other 
countries. The information is pleas- 
antly and vividly imparted in the 
form of popular biography as well 
as fiction by well-known and popular 
writers. 

Unifokm Cloth Binding New 
and Attractive Dies Illus- 
trated Trice per volume $1.00 

1. Bobbin Boy The Early Life of 
Gen. N. P. Banks 

2. Border Boy A Popular Life 
of Daniel Boone By W. H. 
Bogart 

3. Daring Deeds of the Revolution By Henry C. Watson 
4- Dora Darling or the Daughter of the Regiment By Jane G 
Austin 

5. Dora Darling and Little Sunshine By Jane G. Austin 

6. Father of his Country A Popular Life of George Washington 

By Henry C. Watson 

7- Friend of Washington A Popular Life of General Lafayette 
By Henry C. Watson 

8. Great Men and Gallant Deeds By J. G. Edgar 

9. Great Peacemaker A Popular Life of Wilham Penn By 

Henry C. Watson 

10. Great Expounder Young Folks’ Life of Daniel Webster 

11. Good and Great Men Their Brave Deeds and Works By 

John Frost, LL.D, 

12. Little Corporal Young Folks’ Life of Napoleon Bonaparte 

By John Frost LL.D. 

13. Mill Boy of the Slashes Life of Henry Clay By John Frost 

14. Noble Deeds of American Women Edited ‘by J. Clement 

15. Old Bell of Independence By Henry C. Watson 

16. Old Hickory Life of Andrew Jackson By John Frost 

17. Old Rough and Ready Young Folks’ Life of Gen. Zachary 

Taylor By John Frost, LL.D. 

18. Pioneer Mothers of the West Daring and Heroic Deeds ol 

American Women By John Frost, LL.D. 

19. Printer Boy or How Ben Franklin made his Mark 

20. Poor Richard’s Story A Popular Life of Ben Franklin By 

Henry C. Watson 

21. Paul and Persis or the Revolutionary Struggle in the Mohawk 

Valley By Mary E. Brush 

22. Quaker' among the Indians By Thomas C. Battey 

23. -w ampFox Life of Gen. Francis Marion By John Frost 

24. Women of Worth, whom the World Loves to Honor 

H5. Young InyINCIBLES or Patriotism at Home By I. H. Anderson 

LEE and SHEPARD Publishers BOSTON 



THE OLD GLORY SERIES. 

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER, 

Author of “ The Bound to Succeed Series,” “ The Ship and Shore Serieo etc 

Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.25. 

UNDER DEWEY AT MANILA Or the War Fortunes of 
a Castaway. 

A YOUNG VOLUNTEER IN CUBA Or Fighting for the 
Single Star. 

FIGHTING IN CUBAN WATERS Or Under Schley on 
the Brooklyn. 

UNDER OTIS IN THE PHILIPPINES Or a Young Officer 
in the Tropics. (In press.') 


PRESS NOTICES. 

'* ‘ Under Dewey at Manila ’ is a thoroughly timely book, in perfect sympathy with 
the patriotism of the day. Its title is conducive to its perusing, and its reading to 
anticipation. For the volume is but the first of the Old Glory Series, and the im- 
print is that of the famed firm of Lee and Shepard, whose name has been for so many 
years linked with the publications of Oliver Optic. As a matter of fact, the story is 
right in line with the productions of that gifted and most fascinating of authors, and 
certainly there is every cause for congratulation that the stirring events of our recent 
war are not to lose their value for instruction through that valuable school which the 
late William T. Adams made so individually distinctive. 

“ Edward Stratemeyer, who is the author of the present work, has proved an extra- 
ordinarily apt scholar, and had the book appeared anonymously there could hardly 
have failed of a unanimous opinion that a miracle had enabled the writer of the 
famous Army and Navy and other series to resume his pen for the volume in hand. 
Mr. Stratemeyer has acquired in a wonderfully successful degree the knack of writ- 
ing an interesting educational story which will appeal to the young people, and the 
plan of his trio of books as outlined cannot fail to prove both interesting and valu- 
able.” — Boston Ideas. 

“ Stratemeyer’s style suits the boys.” — John Terhune, Supt. of Public Instruc- 
tion, Bergen Co., New Jersey. 

“ ‘ The Young Volunteer in Cuba,’ the second of the Old Glory Series, is better 
than the first; perhaps it traverses more familiar ground. Ben Russell, the brother 
of Larry, who was ‘ with Dewey,’ enlists with the volunteers and goes to Cuba, 
where he shares in the abundance of adventure and has a chance to show his courage 
and honesty and manliness, which win their reward. A good book for boys, giving 
a good deal of information in a most attractive form.” — Universalist Leader. 


For sale by all booksellers , or sent, postpaid , on receipt of price by 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, 

BOSTON. 


THE BOUND TO SUCCEED SERIES 

By EDWARD STRATEHEYER, 

Author of “ Under Dewey at Manila” etc. 

Three Volumes. Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.00. 


RICHARD DARE’S VENTURE Or Striking Out for 
Himself. 

OLIVER BRIGHT’S SEARCH Or The Mystery of 
a Mine. 

TO ALASKA FOR GOLD Or The Fortune Hunters 
of the Yukon. 


PRESS OPINIONS OF EDWARD STRATEMEYER S BOOKS FOR YOUNG 

PEOPLE. 

“ In 4 Richard Dare’s Venture,’ Edward Stratemeyer has fully sustained his repu- 
tation as an entertaining, helpful, and instructive writer for boys.” — Philadelphia 
Call. 

44 4 Richard Dare’s Venture,’ by Edward Stratemeyer, tells the story of a country 
lad who goes to New York to earn enough to support his widowed mother and 
orphaned sisters. Richard’s energy, uprightness of character, and good sense carry 
him through some trying experiences, and gain him friends.” — The Churchman , 
New York. 

“A breezy boy’s book is ‘ Oliver Bright’s Search/ The author has a direct, graphic 
style, and every healthy minded youth will enjoy the volume.” — Ah. Y. Commercial 
A dvertiser. 

44 4 Richard Dare's Venture ’ is a fresh, wholesome book to put into a boy’s hands.” 
— St. Louis Post Dispatch. 

44 4 Richard Dare’s Venture ’ is a wholesome story of a practical boy who made a 
way for himself when thrown upon his own resources.” — Christian Advocate. 

“It is such books as ‘Richard Dare’s Venture' that are calculated to inspire 
young readers with a determination to succeed in life, and to choose some honorable 
walk in which to find that success. The author, Edward Stratemeyer, has shown a 
judgment that is altogether too rare in the maker* of books for boys, in that he has 
avoided that sort of heroics in the picturing of the life of his hero which deals in 
adventures of the daredevil sort. In that respect atone the book commends itself to 
the favor of parents who have a regard for the education of their sons, but the story 
is sufficiently enlivening and often thrilling to satisfy the healthful desires of the 
y-'iing reader.” — Kansas City Star. 

“ Of standard writers of boys’ stories there is quite a list, but those who have not 
read any by Edward Stratemeyer have missed a very goodly thing ” — Boston Ideas. 


Fer sale by all booksellers , or will be sent , postpaid , o~ receipt oj Price by 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, 

BOSTON. 


BOOKS BY 


EVERETT T. TOMLINSON 

THE WAR OF 1812 SERIES 

By Everett T. Tomlinson Cloth 
Illustrated Per volume $1.50 

Comprising 

The Search for Andrew Field 

The Boy Soldiers of 1812 

The Boy Officers of 1812 

Tecumseh’s Young Braves 

Guarding the Border 

The Boys with Old Hickory 

Mr. Tomlinson, who knows the “ ins and outs ” of boy nature by heart, 
is one of the most entertaining and at the same time one of the most in- 
structive of living writers of juvenile fiction. In his younger days a 
teacher by profession, he has made boys and their idiosyncrasies the ab- 
sorbing study of his life, and, with the accumulated experience of years to 
aid him, has applied himself to the task of preparing for their mental 
delectation a diet that shall be at once wholesome and attractive; and that 
his efforts in this laudable direction have been successful is conclusively 
proven by his popularity among boy readers. 

LIBRARY OF HEROIC 

STORIES OF THE AMERICAN 
REVOLUTION 

First Series 

By Everett T. Tomlinson Cloth 
Illustrated $1.00 

STORIES OF THE AMERICAN 
REVOLUTION 

Second Series 

By Everett T. Tomlinson Cloth 
Illustrated $1.00 

Sold by all booksellers and sent prepaid on receipt of pricv 

LEE AND SHEPARD Publishers Posters 


EVENTS 



American 

Revolution 

FIRST SERIES 




Everett T.Tomlinson^ 


JOaOQQQOOQOQOQOa 



OLIVER OPTICS BOOKS 


AJ1 -Over- the- World library. By Oliver Optic. First Series 
Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.25. 

1. A Missing Million; or, The Adventures of Louis Belgrade. 

2. A Millionaire at Sixteen; or, The Cruise of the “ Guardian 

Mother.” 

3. A Young Knight Errant; or, Cruising in the West Indies. 

4. Strange Sights Abroad. ; or, Adventures in European Waters. 

No author has come before the public during the present generation who 
has achieved a larger and more deserving popularity among young people than 
“ Oliver Optic.” His stories have been very numerous, but they have been 
uniformly excellent in moral tone and literary quality. As indicated in the 
general title, it is the author’s intention to conduct the readers of this enter- 
taining series “ around the world.” As a means to this end, the hero of the 
story purchases a steamer which he names the “ Guardian Mother,” and 
with a number of guests she proceeds on her voyage. — Christian Work , N. Y. 


A.ll-Over-the- World library. By Oliver Optic. Second 
Series. Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.25. 

1. American Boys Afloat; or, Cruising in the Orient. 

2. The Young Navigators; or, The Foreign Cruise of the 

“ Maud.” 

&« Up and Down the Nile ; or, Young Adventurers in Africa. 
4 . Asiatic Breezes; or, Students on the Wing. 

The interest in these stories is continuous, and there is a great variety of 
exciting incident woven into the solid information which the book imparts so 
generously and without the slightest suspicion of dryness. Manly boys 
»ril.l welcome this volume as cordially as they did its predecessors. — Boston 
Gazette. 


AllO ver-the- World library. By Oliver Optic. Third Sc- 
ries. Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.25. 

1. Across India ; or, Live Boys in the Far East. 

3. Half Round the World; or, Among the Uncivilized. 

3. Four Young Explorers; or, Sight-Seeing in the Tropics. 

4. Pacific Shores ; or, Adventures in Eastern Seas. 

Amid such new and varied surroundings it would be surprising indeed if the 
author, with his faculty of making even the commonplace attractive, did not 
tell an intensely interesting story of adventure, as well as give much informa- 
tion »n regard to the distant countries through which our friends pass, and 
the strange peoples with whom they are brought in contact. This book, and 
indeed the whole series, is admirably adapted to reading aloud in the family 
circle, each volume containing matter which will interest all the members df 
Ike family. — Boston Budget. 

t*kl AND SHEPARD, BOSTON, SEND THEIR COMPLETE CATALOGUE FREE. 


OLIVER OPTIC’S BOOKS 


The Bine and the Gray — Afloat. By Oliver Optic. Six 
volumes. Illustrated. Beautiful binding in blue and gray, 
with emblematic dies. Cloth. Any volume sold separately. 
Brice per volume, $1.50. 


1. Taken by the Enemy. 

2. Within the Enemy’s Lines 

3. On the Blockade. 


4. Stand by the Union. 

5. Fighting for the Bight, 

6. A Victorious Union. 


The Blue and the Gray — on Band. 

1. Brother against Brother. 4. On the Staff. 

2. In the Saddle. 5. At the Front. 

3. A Eieutenant at Eighteen. G. An Undivided Union. 

♦'There never has been a more interesting writer in the field of juvenile 

literature than Mr. W. T. Adams, who, under his well-known pseudonym, is 
known and admired by every boy and girl in the country, and by thousands 
who have long since passed the boundaries of youth, yet who remember with 
pleasure the genial, interesting pen that did so much to interest, instruct, and 
entertain their younger years. ‘The Blue and the Gray’ is a title that is suf- 
ficiently indicative of the nature and spirit of the latest series, while the name 
of Oliver Optic is sufficient warrant of the absorbing style of narrative. This 
series is as bright and entertaining as any work that Mr. Adams has yet put 
forth, and will be as eagerly perused as any that has borne his name. It would 
not be fair to the prospective reader to deprive him of the zest which comes 
from the unexpected by entering into a synopsis of the story. A word, how- 
ever, should be said in regard to the beauty and appropriateness of the binding, 
which makes it a most attractive volume.” — Boston Budget. 

Woodville Stories. By Oliver Optic. Six volumes. Illus- 
trated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.25. 

1. Rich and Humble; or, The Mission of Bertha Grant. 

2 . In School and Out; or, The Conquest of Richard Grant. 

3. Watch and Wait; or, The Young Fugitives. 

4. Work and Win; or, Noddy Newman on a Cruise. 

5. Hope and Have; or, Fanny Grant among the Indians 

6. Haste and Waste; or, The Young Pilot of Lake Champlain. 

“Though we are not so young as we once were, we relished these stories 

almost as much as the boys and girls for whom they were written. They we r >s 
really refreshing, even to us. There is much in them which is calculated 1,0 
inspire a generous, healthy ambition, and to make distasteful all reading tend- 
ing to stimulate base desires.” — Fitchburg Reveille. 

The Starry Flag’ Series. By Oliver Optic. In six volumes. 
Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, 
$1.25. 

1. The Starry Flag; or, The Young Fisherman of Cape Ann. 

2. Breaking Away; or, The Fortunes of a Student. 

3. Seek and Find; or, The Adventures of a Smart Boy. 

4. Freaks of Fortune; or, Half round the World. 

5. Make or Break; or, The Rich Man’s Daughter. 

6. Down the River; or, Buck Bradford and the Tyrants. 

“ Mr. Adams, the celebrated and popular writer, familiarly known as Oliver 
Optic, seems to have inexhaustible funds for weaving together the virtues of 
life; and, notwithstanding he has written scores of books, the same fresnness 
and novelty run through them all. Some people think the sensational element 
predominates. Perhaps it does. But a book fbr young people needs this, and 
80 long as good sentiments are inculcated such books ought to be read.” 

LEE AND SHEPARD, BOSTON, SEND Tij£JR COMPLETE CATALOGUE FREE. 


OLIVER OPTIC’S BOOKS 


Ajrmy fUTd Navy Stories. By Oliver Optic. Six volumes, 
frustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, 
$1.23. 

1. The Soldier Boy; or, Tom Somers in the Army. 

3. The Sailor Boy; or, Jack Somers in the Navy. 

3. The Young Lieutenant; or, Adventures of an Army Officer. 

4. The Yankee Middy; or, Adventures of a Navy Officer. 

5. Fighting Joe; or, The Fortunes of a Staff Officer. 

6. Brave Old Salt; or, Life on the Quarter Deck. 

“This series of six volumes recounts the adventures of two brothers, Tom 
and Jark Somers, one in the army, the other in the navv, in the great Civil War. 
The romantic narratives of the fortunes and exploits of the brothers are thrill- 
ing in the extreme. Historical accuracy in the recital of the great events of 
that period is strictly followed, and the result is, not only a library of entertain- 
ing volumes, but also the best history of the Civil War for young people ever 
written.” 

3ocit Builders Series. By Oliver Optic. In six volumes. 
Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, 
$1.25. 

1. All Adrift; or, The Goldwing Club. 

3. Snug Harbor; or, The Champlain Mechanics. 

3. Square and Compasses; or, Building the House. 

4. Stem to Stern; or, Building the Boat. 

5. All Taut; or, Rigging the Boat. 

6. Heady About; or, Sailing the Boat. 

“ The scries includes in six successive volumes the whole art of boat building, 
boat rigging, boat managing, and practical hints to make the ownership of a 
boat pay. A great deal of useful information is given in this Boat Builders 
Series, and in ~ach book a very interesting story is interwoven with the infor- 
mation. Every reader will be interested at once in Dory, the hero of ‘All 
Adrift,’ and one of the characters retained in the subsequent volumes of the 
series. 1 1 is friends will not want to lose sight of him, and every hoy who 
makes his acquaintance in ‘All Adrift’ will become his friend.” 

ICiverdale Story Books. By Oliver Optic. Twelve vol- 
umes. Illustrated. Illuminated covers. Price: cloth, per 
set, $3.60; per volume, 30 cents; paper, per set, $2.00. 


1 . 

LLHe Merchant. 

7. Proud and Lazy. 


Young Voyagers. 

8. Careless Kate. 

«>• 

Christmas Gift. 

9. Robinson Crusoe, Jr. 

4. 

Doily and I. 

10. The Picnic Party. 

r>. 

Uncle Ben. 

11. The Gold Thimble. 

0. 

Birthday Party. 

13. The Do-Somethings. 


Bixerdiile Story Books. By Oliver Optic. Six volumes. 
Illustrated. Fancy cloth and colors. Price per volume, 30 
cents. 

t. Little Merchant. 4. Careless Kate. 

i. Proud and Lazy. 5. Dolly and I. 

i. Young Voyagers. 6. Robinson Crusoe, Jr. 

I 7 *! >ra Lee Library. By Oliver Optic. Six volumes. Illus- 
trated. Fancy cloth and colors. Price per volume, 30 
cents. 

1. rile Picnic Party. 4. Christmas Gift. 

‘ 4 . The Gold Thimble. 5. Uncle Ben. 

3. The Do-Somethings. 6. Birthday Party. 

These are bright short stories for younger children who are unable to com 
prehend the starry Plug Series or the Army and Navy Series. But they 
all d isplay the arthor’s talent for pleasing and interesting the little folks. They 
are all fresh ana original, preaching no sermons, but inculcating good lessons. 

lee Am eeeton, send their complete catalogue frit 


OLIVER OPTIC’S BOOKS 


The Great Western Series. By Oliver Optic. In six vol- 
umes. Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per 
volume, $1.25. 

1. Going: West; or, The Perils of a Poor Boy. 

2 . Out West; or, Roughing it on the Great Lakes. 

3. Lake Breezes; or, The Cruise of the Sylvania. 

4. Going South; or, Yachting on the Atlantic Coast, 

5. Down South; or, Yacht Adventures in Florida. 

6. Up the River; or, Yachting on the Mississippi. 

“This is the latest series of books issued by this popular writer, and dealr 
with life on the Great Lakes, for which a careful study was made by the author 
in a summer tour of the immense water sources of America. The story, which 
carries the same hero through the six books of the series, is always entertain- 
ing, novel scenes and varied incidents giving a constantly changing yet always 
attractive aspect to the narrative. Oliver Optic has written nothing better 

The Yacht Club Series. By Oliver Optic. In six volumes. 
Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, 
$1.25. 

1. Little Bobtail; or. The Wreck of the Penobscot. 

2 . The Yacht Club; or, The Young Boat Builders. 

3. Money-Maker; or, The Victory of the Basilisk. 

4. The Coming Wave; or, The Treasure of High Rock, 

5. The Dorcas Club; or, Our Girls Afloat. 

6. Ocean Born; or, The Cruise of the Clubs. 

“ The series has this peculiarity, that all of its constituent volumes are inde. 
pendent of one another, and therefore each story is complete in itself. Oliver 
Optic is, perhaps, the favorite author of the boys and girls of this country, and 
he seems destined to enjoy an endless popularity. He deserves his success, 
for he makes very interesting stories, and inculcates none but the best senti- 
ments, and the ‘Yacht Club’ is no exception to this rule.” — New Haven 
Journal and Courier . 

Onward and Upward Series. By Oliver Optic. In six 
volumes. Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price 
per volume, $1.25. 

1. Field and Forest; or, The Fortunes of a Farmer. 

2 . Plane and Plank; or, The Mishaps of a Mechanic. 

3. Desk and Debit; or, The Catastrophes of a Clerk. 

4. Cringle and Crosstree; or, The Sea Swashes of a Sailor. 

5. Bivouac and Battle; or, The Struggles of a Soldier. 

6. Sea and Shore; or, The Tramps of a Traveller. 

“Paul Farringford, the hero of these tales, is, like most of this author's 
heroes, a young man of high spirit, and of high aims and correct principles, 
appearing in the different volumes as a fanner, a captain, a bookkeeper, a 
soldier, a sailor, and a traveller. In all of them the hero meets with very 
exciting adventures, told in the graphic style for which the author is famous.” 

The Lake Shore Series. By Oliver Optic. In six volumes. 
Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, 
$1.25. 

1. Through by Daylight; or, The Young Engineer of the Lakh 

Shore Railroad. 

2 . Lightning Express; or, The Rival Academies. 

3. On Time; or, The Young Captain of the Ucayga Steamer. 

4. Switch Off; or, The War of the Students. 

5. Brake Up; or, The Young Peacemakers. 

6. Bear and Forbear; or, The Young Skipper of Lake Ucayga. 

“ Oliver Optic is one of the most fascinating writers for youth, and withal 
one of the best to be found in this or any past age. Troops of young people 
hang over his vivid pages ; and not one of them ever learned to be mean , ignoble, 
cowardly, selfish, or to yield to any vice from anything they ever read from his 
pen.” «— Providence Pres 9. 


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OLIVER OPTIC’S BOOKS 


The Famous Boat Club Series. By Oliver Optic. Six 

volumes. Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price 
per volume $ i .25. 

1. Tlie Boat Club; oh, The Bunkers of Rippleton. 

2. AH Aboard; or, Rife on the Lake. 

3. Jiow or Never; or, The Adventures of Bobby Bright. 

4. Try Again; or, The Trials and Triumphs of Harry West. 

5. Poor and Proud; or, The Fortunes of Katy Redburn. 

<4. Little by JLittle; ok, The -..ruise of the Flyaway. 

“ This is the first series of books written for the young by Oliver Optic. 
It laid the foundation for his fame as the first of authors in which the young 
delight, and gained for him the title of the Prince of Story Tellers. The six 
books are varied in incident and plot, but all are entertaining and original.” 

{Other volumes in preparation.) 

Young 1 America Abroad: A Library of Travel and 
Adventure in Foreign Lands. By Oliver Optic. Illus- 
trated by Nast and others. First Series. Six volumes. 
Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.25. 

1. Outward Bound; or, Young America Afloat. 

2 . Shamrock and Thistle; or, Young America in Ireland and 

Scotland. 

3. Red Cross; or, Young America in England and Wales. 

4. Dikes and Ditches; or, Young America in Holland and 

Belgium. 

5. Palace and Cottage; or, Young America in France and 

Switzerland. 

6. Down the Rhine; or, Young America in Germany. 

“The story from its inception, and through the twelve volumes (see Second 
Series), is a bewitching one, while the information imparted concerning the 
countries of Europe and the isles of the sea is not only correct in every particu- 
lar, but is told in a captivating style. Oliver Optic will continue to be the 
boys’ friend, and his pleasant books will continue to be read by thousands of 
American boys. What a fine holiday present either or both series of * Young 
America Abroad ’ would be for a young friend ! It would make a little library 
highly prized by the recipient, and would not be an expensive one.” — Provi- 
dence Press. 

Young 1 America Abroad. By Oliver Optic. Second Series. 
Six volumes. Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. 
Price per volume, $1.25. 

1 . Up the Baltic; or, Young America in Norway, Sweden, and 

Denmark. 

2 . Northern Lands; or, Young America in Russia and Pkusst\. 

3. Cross and Crescent; or, Young America in Turkey and Greece. 

4. Sunny Shores; or, Young America in Italy and Austria. 

5. Vine and Olive; or, Young America in Spain and Portugal. 

6. Isles of the Sea; or, Young America Homeward Bound. 

** Oliver Optic is a nom de plume that is known and loved by almost every 
boy of intelligence in the land. We have seen a highly intellectual and world- 
weary man, a cynic whose heart was somewhat embittered by its large experi- 
ence of human nature, take up one of Oliver Optic’s books, and read it at a 
sitting, neglecting his work in yielding to the fascination of the pages. When 
a mature and exceedingly well-infftrmed mind, long despoiled ot all its fresh- 
ness, can thus find pleasure in a book for boys, no additional words of recom- 
mendation are needed.” — Sunday Times. 

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LEE AND SHEPARD’S ILLUSTRATED JUVENILES 




J. T. TROWBRIDGE’S BOOKS 


THE START IN RIFE SERIES. 4 volumes. 

A. Start in Life : A Story of the Genesee Country. By 
J. T. Trowbridge. Illustrated. $1.00. 

In this story the author recounts the hardships of a young lad in his first 
endeavor to start out for himself. It is a tale that is full of enthusiasm and 
budding hopes. The writer shows how hard the youths of a century ago were 
compelled to work. This he does in an entertaining way, mingling fun and 
adventures with their daily labors. The hero is a striking example of the 
honest boy, who is not too lazy to work, nor too dull to thoroughly appreciate 
a joke. 

Biding' His Time. By J. T. Trowbridge. Illustrated. $1.00. 

“ It is full of spirit and adventure, and presents a plucky hero who was willing 
to ‘ bide his time,’ no matter how great the expectations that he indulged in 
from his uncle’s vast wealth, which he did not in the least covet. . . . He was 
left a poor orphan in Ohio at seventeen years of age, and soon after heard of a 
rich uncle, who lived near Boston. He sets off on the long journey to Boston, 
finds his uncle, an eccentric old man, is hospitably received by him, but seeks 
employment in a humble way, and proves that he is a persevering and plucky 
young man.” — Boston Home Journal. 

The Kelp Gatherers: A Story of the Maine Coast. By 
J. T. Trowbridge. Illustrated. $1.00. 

This book is full of interesting information upon the plant life of the sea- 
shore, and the life of marine animals; but it is also a bright and readable 
story, with all the hints of character and the vicissitudes of human life, in 
depicting which the author is an acknowledged master. 

The Scarlet Tanager, and Other Bipeds. By J. T. 
Trowbridge. Illustrated. $1.00. 

Every new story which Mr. Trowbridge begins is followed through succes- 
sive chapters by thousands who have read and re-read many times his preceding 
tales. One of his greatest charms is his absolute truthfulness. He does not 
depict little saints, or incorrigible rascals, but just boys. This same fidelity to 
nature is seen in his latest book, “The Scarlet Tanager, and Other Bipeds.” 
There is enough adventure in this tale to commend it to the liveliest reader, 
and all the lessons it teaches are wholesome. 


LEE AND SHEPARD. BOSTON. SEND THEIR COMPLETE CATALOGUE FREE. 


J. T. TROWBRIDGE’S BOOKS 


THE TIDE-MILT, STORIES. 0 volumes. 

Phil and His Friends. By J. T. Trowbridge. Illustrated. 
$1.-25. 

The hero is the son of a man who from drink got into debt, and, after having 
given a paper to a creditor authorizing him to "keep the son as a security for 
his claim, ran away, leaving poor Phil a bond slave. The story involves a 
great many unexpected incidents, some of which are painful, and some comic. 
Phil man 1 ully works for a year, cancelling his father’s debt, and then escapes 
The characters are strongly drawn, and the story is absorbingly interesting. 

The Tinkham Brothers’ Tide-Mill. By J. T. Trowbridge 
Illustrated. $1*25. 

“ The Tinkham Brothers ” were the devoted sons of an invalid mother. The 
story tells how they purchased a tide-mill, which afterwards, by the ill-will and 
obstinacy of neighbors, became a source of much trouble to them. It tells also 
how, by discretion and the exercise of a peaceable spirit, they at last overcame 
all difficulties. 

“Mr. Trowbridge’s humor, his fidelity to nature, and story-telling power 
lose nothing with years; and he stands at the head of those who are furnishing 
a literature for the young, clean and sweet in tone, and always of interest and 
value.” — The Continent. 

The Satin-wood Box. By J. T. Trowbridge. Illustrated. 
$1.25. 

“ Mr. Trowbridge has always a purpose in his writings, and this time he 
has undertaken to show how very near an innocent boy can come to the guilty 
edge and yet be able by fortunate circumstances to rid himself of all suspicion 
of evil. There is something winsome about the hero; but he has a singular 
way of falling into bad luck, although the careful reader will never feel the 
least disposed to doubt his honesty. ... It is the pain and perplexity which 
impart to the story its intense interest.” — Syracuse Standard. 

The Tittle Master. By J. T. Trowbridge. Illustrated. $1.25. 

This is the story of a schoolmaster, his trials, disappointments, and final 
victory. It will recall to many a man his experience in teaching pupils, and 
in managing their opinionated and self-willed parents. The story has the 
charm which is always found in Mr. Trowbridge’s works. 

“ Many a teacher could profit by reading of this plucky little schoolmaster.” 
— Journal of Education. , 

His One Fault. By J. T. Trowbridge. Illustrated. $1.25. 

“As for the hero of this story, ‘ His One Fault’ was absent-mindedness. He 
forgot to lock his uncle’s stable door, and the horse was stolen. In seeking to 
recover the stolen horse, he unintentionally stole another. In trying to restore 
the wrong horse to his rightful owner, he was himself arrested. After no end 
of comic and dolorous adventures, he surmounted all his misfortunes by down- 
right pluck and genuine good feeling. It is a noble contribution to juvenile 
literature.” — Homan’s Journal . 

Peter Biidstome. By J. T. Trowbridge. Illustrated. $1.25. 

“ Trowbridge’s other books have been admirable and deservedly popular, 
but this one, in our opinion, is the best yet. It is a story at once spirited and 
touching, with a certain dramatic and artistic quality that appeals to the literary 
sense as well as to the story-loving appetite. In it Mr. Trowbridge has not 
lectured or moralized or remonstrated; he has simply shown boys what they 
are doing when they contemplate hazing. By a good artistic impulse we are 
not shown the hazing at all; when the story begins, the hazing is already over, 
and we are introduced immediately to the results. It is an artistic touch also 
that the boy injured is not hurt because he is a fellow of delicate nerves, but be- 
cause of his very strength, and the power with which he resisted until overcome 
by numbers, and subjected to treatment which left him insane. His insanity 
takes the form of harmless delusion, and the absurdity of his ways*and talk 
enables the author to lighten the sombreness without weakening the moral, ia 
a way that ought to win all boys to his side.” — The Critic. 

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J. T„ TROWBRIDGE’S BOOKS 


THE SILVER MEDAL STORIES. 6 volumes. 

The Silver Medal, and Other Stories. By J. T. Trow- 
bridge. Illustrated. $1.25. 

There were some schoolboys who had turned housebreakers, and among their 
plunder was a silver medal that had been given to one John Harrison by the 
Humane Society for rescuing from drowning a certain Benton Barry. Now 
Benton Barry was one of the wretched housebreakers. This is the summary 
of the opening chapter. The story is intensely interesting in its serious as 
well as its humorous parts. 

His Own Master. ByJ. T. Trowbridge. Illustrated. $1.25. 

“ This is a book after the typical boy’s own heart. Its hero is a plucky young 
fellow, who, seeing no chance for himself at home, determines to make his own 
way in the world. . . . He sets out accordingly, trudges to the far West, and 
finds the road to fortune an unpleasantly rough one.” — Philadelphia Inquirer. 

“ We class this as one of the best stories for boys we ever read. The tone is 
perfectly healthy, and the interest is kept up to the end.” — Boston Home 
Journal. 

Bound in Honor. By J. T. Trowbridge. Illustrated. $1.25. 

This story is of a lad, who, though not guilty of any bad action, had been an 
eye-witness of the conduct of his comrades, and felt “ Bound in Honor” not 
to tell. 

“The glimpses we get of New England character are free from any distor 
tion, and their humorous phases are always entertaining. Mr. Trowbridge’s 
brilliant descriptive faculty is shown to great advantage in the opening chapter 
of the book by a vivid picture of a village fire, and is manifested elsewhere with 
equally telling effect.” — Boston Courier. 

The Pocket Rifle. By J. T. Trowbridge. Illustrated. $1.25. 

“A boy’s story which will be read with avidity, as it ought to be, it is so 
brightly and frankly written, and with such evident knowledge of the tempera- 
ments and habits, the friendships and enmities of schoolboys.” — New York 
Mail. 

“ This is a capital story for boys. Trowbridge never tells a story poorly. 
It teaches honesty, integrity, ana friendship, and how best they can be pro- 
moted. It shows the danger of hasty judgment and circumstantial evidence; 
that right-doing pays, and dishonesty never.” — Chicago Inter-Ocean. 

The * Jolly Rover. ByJ. T. Trowbridge. Illustrated. $1.25. 

“ This book will help to neutralize the ill effects of any poison which children 
may have swallowed in the way of sham-adventurous stories and wildly fictitious 
tales. ‘The Jolly B.over’ runs away from home, and meets life as it is, till he 
is glad enough to seek again his father’s house. Mr. Trowbridge has the 
power of making an instructive story absorbing in its interest, and of covering 
a moral so that it is easy to take.” — Christian Intelligencer. 

Young 1 Joe, and Other Boys. ByJ. T. Trowbridge. Illus- 
trated. $1.25. 

• c Young Joe,” who lived at Bass Cove, where he shot wild ducks, took some 
to town for sale, and attracted the attention of a portly gentleman fond of shoot- 
ing. This gentleman went duck shooting with Joe, and their adventures were 
more amusing to the boy than to the amateur sportsman. 

'There are thirteen other short stories in the book which will be sure to please 
the young folks. 


The Vagabonds: An Illustrated Poem. By J. T. Trow- 
bridge. Cloth. $1.50. 

“ The Vagabonds ” are a strolling fiddler and his dog. The fiddler has been 
ruined by drink, and his monologue is one of the most pathetic and effective 
pieces in our literature. 


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